Weltschmerz
by Hanomaru
Summary: Languages, terrorist robots and biplanes, oh my! War is everywhere and justification is rare. A story of first impressions and second thoughts. RoyEd, major spoilers, speculative whatnot.
1. To Incite

Weltschmerz

Durch Hanomaru

Disclaimer: I don't own anything mentioned in this story except perhaps the term "holy alien tentacle porn." And it may not even turn up in the story. But I do not own FMA, its characters or its settings. All that stuff belongs to Arakawa-sensei.

Warnings: SPOILERS, occasional bouts of foul language, yaoi (DLDR), some graphic violence, some gore, horrible writing. That last one is practically guaranteed in all my fics. Most of these warnings won't come into effect for a few chapters, so it's rated T for now.

Author's Notes: Post-Shanbara-ness! This is what happens when Nightwish, Mindless Self Indulgence and an unhealthy obsession with FMA combine in Han-chan's brain, but this Weltschmerz is actually entirely different from what it originally was. Then again, what it originally was was lost to my stupid computer's BSOD two months ago. It was much fluffier and nicer before. Now it's going to be hardcore sex and violence, and not in that order. Humorous subplots will abound!

**Anreizen**

Ed was back, but no one even noticed until he strode into the Colonel's--no, he had to be a Brigadier General by now--office, four years older physically, but over ten years older emotionally. His gait as he walked through the halls was only similar to the former Ed's strut in that the strides seemed almost impossibly long for his short legs, although they weren't all that short anymore. He dressed the same way he had during the time he was on the other side of the Gate in Munich; the flashy, floor-length red jacket was gone, along with the black-and-white sleeveless shirt and leather pants that he had always worn under them. Now, he wore plain black slacks and a sensible, dark-coloured vest over a long-sleeved white shirt.

Hence, everyone except the Brigadier General and Lieutenant Hawkeye blew a brain bolt when he appeared.

He paused a moment in the doorway to study the various reactions of the Central City HQ staff in the Brigadier General's office. Havoc and Breda were huddled together in a corner in terror, having assumedly jumped there when the door burst open. Fury had a vaguely confused look on his face, Falman was edging towards the window, Riza continued putting unfinished papers on the Brigadier General's desk neutrally, and Roy himself seemed rather bemused.

They all stood, staring at the doorway, when Ed frowned. Havoc moved to watch Ed's next move and Breda steeled himself for the next rant.

"What is this? No 'Hey, Ed, how's it goin', no nothing! C'mon!" Ed's frown disappeared as he walked into the center of the room, towards Roy. He grinned. "Well?"

Everyone went towards Ed to offer congratulations, salutations and the occasional apology. They all told him about the most recent alchemical discoveries and how they applied to Ed's former mission, about who'd been promoted and who'd gotten fired and such, and Havoc told him he had kept count of exactly how many girlfriends he had lost to Mustang's allure since Ed had left. Said count now stood at exactly 25. Ed feigned interest in Havoc's plight and cursed both Mustang and Havoc for creating the issue.

Breda was the one who asked the fateful question: "How's it been with you, Shorty?"

Silence. Even the air tensed for the expected string of loud, abusive ranting. Ed walked over, dramatically leaned on Breda's shoulder with unforeseen ease, and said calmly, "Just fine, my little friend. Absolutely fine." Everyone laughed except Breda. Ed continued sarcastically, "You know, the whole experience was just an everyday thing of running all over half the world, reconstructing the Gate, and getting back over here with Al. Thanks for asking."

"So Al's here, too?" asked Falman.

"Y-- Hey... Anyone seen him?" Ed asked worriedly, then ran out, disappeared for a minute, then pulled him in. Ah, so _that_ was where the infamous red coat had gone. Al was currently using it as a blanket for some small animal. He was still just as concerned for the well-being of all creatures small and cute, and was still a bit taller than Ed, despite their difference in age. His hair was short again. The changes that puberty had wrought upon him held everyone's attention for a few moments while he came in alongside his 'big' brother.

They were mid-discussion as they walked in. "'...leave it outside' is no excuse, Al. Its prospects haven't improved just by bringing it in."

"But it's hurt, Nii-san!"

"No, it's not. See?" He pulled back the jacket to reveal a chirpy little brown bird. It promptly jumped up, chirped indignantly at the two and flew out the window. Al started to call for it, but Ed interrupted him. "Ha."

"It was dragging its wing earlier..."

"Probably some weird courtship display. Now! Al! You remember everybody, right?"

"Of course!"

"...AL!" was the unanimous cry from three separate mouths.

"Um... yes?"

"No. Way. NO way. Aw, crap." Havoc started babbling, having realized that both Elrics were now serious competition. "No. Oh frig. OHHH no."

Discussions ensued, with much catching up, a number of impressed noises from Fury and a few depressed noises from Havoc. Then, Ed and Al decided it was time to get down to business. They went to the Brigadier General and saluted, Ed less enthusiastically than Al.

Mustang asked, "What do you need?"

Ed shifted and grumbled, "We don't '**need'** anything, sir. We **want **to rejoin the military as State Alchemists."

Mustang's eyebrows raised a little. "That should be fairly easy to arrange, shouldn't it? I mean, you both have experience with the military. Hawkeye?"

"Yes, sir. You'll be signing the paperwork, though. Along with everything else on your desk. **This should be taking place now, sir.**" Riza's patented I-know-how-to-make-you-suffer-SO-badly tone came into play there.

Mustang groaned and slouched his way back to his desk, reading through something off the top of the foot-high pile on the corner of his desk. He scanned about three-quarters of it, wrote a little note on the bottom, signed it, and carelessly put it on the other side of his desk. Hawkeye, out of curiosity, started to read the paper. She got to the bottom and turned to glare at Havoc. Havoc winced and moved to run in case she pulled her trusty gun on him. Then, she smiled, almost evilly. She turned back to Mustang and said, "Sir?"

Mustang stopped signing and looked up. "What?"

"You just signed a request for... a certain soldier or two to wear a miniskirt as part of their uniform for a week."

Mustang's head shot up. "Well! Good on her! Very good on her! Wonderful! I knew that! Yes!"

"Sir?"

"What?"

"The soldier is a man."

A long pause, broken up by Ed trying to stifle a laugh every now and then, froze most of the room.

"Give me that," snapped Mustang. Hawkeye calmly handed him the paper, evidently biting her tongue and almost as close to laughing out loud as Ed was.

"To change the uniform... miniskirt... request filed by **_WHAT THE HELL!_** ...What is the meaning of this! Hawkeye, don't tell me YOU filed this!"

"No, sir, cross my heart, I didn't. It's the will of the soldier. Besides, you already signed it, sir. No going back now."

"Oh, frig! Anyone have liquid paper? Anyone? Please?"

"None here, _sir_," Ed said, revelling in the Brigadier General's extreme discomfort.

Havoc started whimpering. If he had been a dog, his tail would be firmly tucked and his ears would be flat against his head.

Ed had a feeling that Hawkeye had indeed filed the offending paper, and that that evil grin was nowhere near misdirected. Hawkeye calmly walked out, followed by Breda, Falman, Fury and Havoc, who was trying to make himself look as small as possible. The only ones left now were Mustang and the Elric brothers.

The Brigadier General looked over at the two, his glance lingering a little longer on Ed. "You've changed," he stated matter-of-factly. "The old Ed would still be screaming up Breda's nose now, and the old Al would have had every right to pick you up and carry you out of Headquarters."

Ed affected a cross expression and crossed his arms. He almost looked like a... well, a sulking teenager. "Whaddaya mean, 'old Ed,' huh? I'm still Ed... I'm still the same Ed."

Al didn't deny that he had changed a fair bit. He considered Mustang's story briefly, then realized that carting his brother around like a very violent sack of flour wasn't really an option any more.

Ed broke the short pause in the conversation. "So, I guess Al and I should let you get on with your paperwork..."

"Well, Al can go ahead. You, Fullmetal, are going to have to stay behind."

"It's okay, I can wait here," piped Al.

"I insist you go to the waiting room. It might be problematic if you stayed."

The big grey-brown eyes that had just seconds ago been bright and eager lowered to point towards a corner of the window. Al muttered a semi-audible "Yes, sir" as he walked out. He knew that if it was for Ed's ears, but not his, it had to be bad.

After the door had closed, Mustang shuffled through the papers on his desk. He scanned the titles of the various reports, complaints and requests before stopping and handing a sheet of paper to Ed. It was not a piece of paper Mustang had to sign, but a letter. "I've been trying to keep in touch with the Rockbells since the incident at the 5th Laboratory," he explained. "I've received a letter every Thursday since then so far, except last week and the week before. Have you been to Risembul since you came back?"

"No. This was the nearest place I kn..." Ed trailed off as he read the letter.

_Dear Brigadier General Mustang,_

_This will likely be the last letter you receive from us. We apologize for the lack of communication in past weeks, but we have had trouble finding customers since Ed left. Do not worry. We have been doing fine financially, but have started to get phone calls from another mechanic telling us that he'll shut us down if any more of his customers come to us._

_That said, the business has been the least of our problems. Grandma's been out of the house a lot, taking care of a neighbour who has recently become very ill. I have been worrying due to the fact that she is coming down with the same symptoms as him. She refuses to go see a doctor, and claims that she needs to look after me. I'm just worried._

_Signed,_

_Winry Rockbell_

_P.S. I can't accept your apology. You should understand._

"Ah..."

"You see that, Ed? You've been gone longer than you think."

Ed's eyes drifted over the letter again. "That... doesn't seem like Pinako."

"Excuse me?"

"Pinako Rockbell. I know she's an automail mechanic and a good person, but if one of our neighbours was that sick, she'd take them to a hospital, not under her wing." He stroked an imaginary beard and raised an eyebrow as he contemplated the situation. "But, even if this letter is fake, you're still right. I should go to Risembul." Ed folded the letter, tucked it into his vest, and started for the door.

"One moment." Mustang's voice was quieter, but somehow more commanding than it had ever been. Ed froze just before opening the door. He turned and listened attentively.

"Your watch," the Brigadier General said, and held up the same silver pocket watch that had been close to Ed in the days when he and Al were still on their quest. Ed returned to the desk, and Mustang handed it to him. The Brigadier General looked like he was yearning to ask some question, but held it to himself. "Congratulations, Fullmetal. You are, once again, a dog of the military." He opened a drawer and pulled out yet another piece of paper. Ed didn't doubt that this day included the most paperwork Mustang had actually looked at since who knows when. "And as such, this is your next assignme--no, wait, sorry." He chucked the sheet at a random spot on his desk and picked up another one. "This is your next assignment."

Ed was wondering just how much more information the Brigadier General had to shove down his throat. He was reading the transcript of a radio broadcast by the present Fuhrer. It included an official declaration of war and details on which headquarters were to assemble as many State Alchemists and soldiers as they could and head to the country they were nearest to and therefore had the responsibility of fighting. Central HQ had been assigned to Drachma.

"Wha... Brigadier General, do you want to know why it took me so long to come back?"

"Don't I already? You had to go over half the world to find the information necessary to reconstruct the Gate, or so you said."

"No. If that was it, I could have been done in a year." Mustang's eyes swung instantly from the grain of the desk to Ed's face.

"There was someone... who had the title of Fuhrer handed to him. By some enormous chance." Ed's eyes lost focus as he looked to an uninteresting spot on the floor to his right.

"No, this guy got it fair and square, parliamentary elections and all."

"On the other side of the Gate, you idiot!" Ed snapped, then his edge dulled again, slowly. He started to recollect again. "He... declared war on the world... and I was nearly killed... his soldiers... nearly killed me because of my eyes..."

A long, stretched silence passed between them as Mustang tried to fill in the blanks.

"Brigadier General, I don't think this Fuhrer is in his right mind."

"Of course he is. All those countries have expressed violent intent towards Amestris at large."

Ed glanced at the page again. "I doubt Creta would. Don't they have fewer people in total than Amestris has members of the army or something?" When Mustang failed to respond, Ed continued. "And Borsof. They're supposed to be these total pacifists, right? Don't even **have** an army to be violent with." Receiving nothing but silence yet again, Ed got a little impatient. "Look, Mustang, I don't think either of us want to go to Drachma to fight off more pneumonia than enemies, but you can tell me something. I'm not going to rat you out to the higher-ups... if there are any."

He stopped trying to get a response and looked at the man behind the desk. As he looked, it struck Ed that the Colonel, too, had grown older, just as he had.

Ed's expression lost its earnestness. He put his watch in his pocket and headed for the door. "Al, it's okay. We're leaving," he said as a muffled gasp came through the door. He opened it to reveal Al, looking guilty. They left the Brigadier General in silence, alone with his thoughts.

-

_Just another boring day, he thought. No paperwork due until tomorrow, and no subordinates to order around. I'd kill just to have Hawkeye in here._

_He reached instinctively for the middle drawer on his right. If he had been most other people, the object he pulled out would have been something typical, like a bottle of booze or a journal, but what he pulled out was nothing of the sort. In fact, it was something of which he presently had two. Or, at least, most people thought the two were identical. One was what he was lifting out of the drawer and the other was very near to him at all times._

_But this one... this was different to him, somehow. He hadn't studied it extensively; it just calmed him down when he held it in his hand. He rarely looked at it, but he ran his thumb over it while he lounged in front of a small pile of paperwork._

_Contrary to what one would expect, he looked forward to the day when he would have to give it away._

-

A/N: I might tell you what "it" is if you haven't already figured it out... or I might not. I know, I'm evil. But if you review like a good little fanthing, I might just feel more compelled...

Semi-Historical-May-Be-Completely-Wrong-Please-Correct-Me-If-That-Is-The-Case Notes:

Point 1: In reference to Ed's bit about the Fuhrer that had his Fuhrership handed to him: Hitler did technically have his title of Chancellor (or, in German, Fuhrer) given to him. He had the most votes ever attained in the German multiparty system (37 of the votes), but turned Chancellorship down. The King-dude of Germany died a bit later and they had to have a Chancellor and Hitler had to be it. Voila.

Point 2: "Ed almost got killed! WTF!": One of the main ideas of the Nazi party, along with the destruction of Jews, was the rule of the Aryans as the supreme race. Aryans were the ones with blue eyes and blond hair. If you've seen the movie, you will recall a part where a foreman looks at his workers and says, "You are all good Aryans." Well, there were probably a few Nazis who were feeling more racist than usual, and they would have seen Ed in the street and basically gone "ZOMG! He hasn't got blue eyes! Let's hate on him!" and perhaps would have beaten him up. Yes, yes, I know it's pretty far-fetched, but dude. It's not like Ed can get much more disturbed.


	2. To Fight

Weltschmerz

Durch Hanomaru

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my computer and my own corrupted notions of who should get it on with whom. Trust me; the gay porno would never end if I owned FMA.

Warnings: For this chapter? Just some coarse language and the occasional bit of anarchist shit. And some disturbing mental imagery.

Author's Notes: I know some of you may just want the porn, but too bad. I like the characters to actually develop the relationships instead of just going "ZOMG SEX!" and jumping one another.

Much thanks and love to Kuropuu and DaRLinG1357 for their reviews! Even more thanks and love to Pikan (Now, tell me honestly, which version do you like more?).

Oh, and for those who're still wondering what "it" is from the flashback in the last chapter... Too bad, I'm not telling. X3 I did make it a bit obvious.

Humorous subplot time!

-

**Kampfen**

The next morning, Ed and Al headed straight from the inn at which they were staying to Central HQ. Mainly, it was because the Brigadier General hadn't given Al's watch to him yet, but it was partially because Ed had a few questions for said military man.

They opened the door and stepped into silence. Both stopped, looked around, and said in unison, "Did they move the Headquarters...?"

The only person they could see was a young man at the reception desk, and he was asleep. Ed walked over, leaned on the desk and said, "Excuse me?"

The man snored.

"Helloooooo? Wake u-up."

He made a sort of bubbling noise.

Ed's face screwed itself up in a way that only a face experienced in such expressions could and slammed his hand down mere millimetres from the guy's nose, screaming, "**_WHAT THE FUCK IS GOIN' ON?_**"

The young man surged up, nearly taking Ed's face off in the process, and scrambled to make it look as though he had been doing work-like things. He saluted smartly to the glowering Ed that appeared before him and smiled nervously. "WhyhellosirwhatanicemorningitissirhowmayIbeofassistancesir?" He laughed in a manner that only takes to one's lips if one is in a state of sheer terror.

Ed didn't react to the man's lack of suicidal tendencies. "Yeah, whatever," he snapped in some other direction. "Now, tell me: Where is everyone? This is **not** normal."

"Um, last I heard, sir, they were all, um, in the East Wing... Apparently, um, there's someone trapped in the bathroom, and, um, they can't get him out..." He cowered. Even though Ed's glare was weakening, he had been infamous as a feisty little shit. Well, not so little now, but still a feisty shit.

He took his hand off the desk and turned in the direction of the East Wing, throwing his arms up in frustration. "**Thank** you. Jeez, that's all I wanted to know, and I have to pull half an army through a knothole just to--Al, aren't you coming?"

Al was hanging back with a vaguely amused smile plastered on his face. He started walking. "Yeah, brother. I'm coming." He looked up and made a small noise reminiscent of someone who has recently learned an important fact of life. Then he murmured, "Before we know it, he's gonna be an angry, immature kid again." He grinned with some wisdom far beyond his years. "I thought that was my job." He quickened his pace to catch up with his older brother.

When the two reached the East Wing, they realized why it had been so quiet. All the pandemonium of the entire building had been concentrated in one place. Everyone he knew from Central, along with hordes of people he didn't, was crowded around the door to the men's loo. He had some trouble getting within earshot of the door, but made it there in time to catch one voice, agreeable--no, pleading--in its conversation.

"Oh, come on. You have to come out of there eventually."

Another voice reached Ed. It was muffled and sounded like it was from someone attempting suicide. It was absolutely unintelligible to Ed's ears, so he pushed and shoved his way through the crowd. When he got near the door, he saw that there had been some serious alchemy going on. The door had been, well, it looked almost like it had been partially turned into some sort of oily gel. He saw Falman standing at the door. He was leaning on it with his hand, but only lightly. When he took his hand away, the impression stayed for a fraction of a second, then repaired itself to smoothness. Falman saw Ed and his face lit up.

"Fullmetal! What timing!" He smiled broadly and pulled Ed next to him.

Ed blinked, dazed at his sudden friendship with Falman. "What's going on?"

"It's Havoc. He's locked himself in there, and there are a few theories going around but, eh, no one really knows exactly why he won't come out. And he transmuted the door so that we can't draw a circle on it. Every time we try, it just disappears. We can't--"

"NO! Oh, God, no! I am **never, EVER **coming out! **_NEVER!_**" Havoc screamed through the door.

Ed's patience meter began ticking down. He parked his hands on his hips and glared with all his might at the door. "Havoc, you're being totally irrational. Tell me, why can't you come out? Does this have something to do with that request form Mustang signed?"

Suddenly, the whole hall fell absolutely silent. Every ear was focused on hearing why Havoc was holed up in a bathroom.

"Maybe... NO! Absolutely not! Nothing to do with it! Now LEAVE ME **ALONE!**"

Someone from Ed's left yelled, "Oh, fuck you, I gotta go, man!"

Laughter burned the crowd.

"Th-then go to the one upstairs! Not this one!" squeaked Havoc. "I'm **not** going **out** and **no one** is coming **in**!" He really did sound like some sort of suicidal maniac.

"You know, Jean, you could just go in one of the cubicles," Falman reasoned.

"No, no, nonono, you'd still see! No one will see! Oh, sweet, kind God! If no one sees me like this, I swear I'll become a Christian!"

The patience meter hit the bottom. "Oh, for--" Ed performed the famous clap, created a hole where the oil-door had been, and watched a blue blur bolt for the farthest cubicle. He noted something very odd about the blur. He turned to Falman and gave him a look that was somewhere between worried and deeply disturbed. "Well... It's up to you now. See you later." As Ed proceeded to the Brigadier General's office, having not seen Mustang in the horde, he heard hysterical wailing and the sounds of multiple transmutations. He turned in to the office, Al in tow, before things got out of hand.

Something was odd. Ed generally considered himself an observant person, but he couldn't quite place what it was. Mustang looked up from what appeared to be some very important and highly professional fidgeting-with-a-pen. He didn't seem to see anything wrong either. The two walked around to the side of their superior's desk.

"Aha. Al, you came for your watch?"

"Yessir."

"Here. Catch." He tossed a silver watch like Ed's to Al, who snatched it like a cat swats a butterfly out of the air. "Welcome back, Soul Binding Alchemist."

Ed did his best to look confused. "Soul... Binding?"

"Yeah. I already explained it to you, didn't I?"

"Uh, yes. Yeah." He lowered his eyes.

Then, a bolt of lightning hit Ed - metaphorically.

Ed's brain went haywire. His ponytail stood on end like a yellow explosion attached to the back of his head. He tried to talk, but his tongue wouldn't let him. He repeated the same consonant about fourteen times as he pointed at the offending oddity before he silenced himself, stumbled to a chair and flopped in it before both legs, real and automail, stopped working. Al rushed to him and started to fuss, feeling his forehead for a temperature and telling him to stay awake. Mustang started to get up, but reconsidered and remained seated instead, supporting his head with his fist as he watched this brotherly bond in action.

Ed came around (somewhat) and shook his head. He groaned.

Mustang, now, was the one trying to look confused. "Hey, now, Ed, what's wrong?"

Ed remembered and was, once again, severely shook up. "N-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-n-no p-p-p-p-pa... n-ntsz!"

Both Mustang and Al were mystified until Ed burst out, "**NO PANTS! NOOO _PAAANTS_!**"

Needless to say, the volume alone of this statement caught the attention of Al, Mustang, and apparently a few others. A curious face or two peeked in from around the door, and Mustang was petrified. Ed was wide-eyed, staring at the pantsless legs of the Brig. Gen., though he had no idea why. He certainly didn't find them attractive. Al slowly turned his head, knowing he would never be able to get the image out of his mind after this. He stopped when he saw the two heads poking in the door. He paused, then smiled apologetically and yelled out, "It's nothing! My brother's just... erm... Hallucinating! Yeah! Heh, he's, um, off his medication again! Ha-ha! Bad brother!" The faces left quickly and with a slam of the door.

Al dropped the smile and dreaded whatever he was about to see. He turned his head as slowly as he could and prepared to view the blasphemy that had sent his not-easily-shocked older brother into a spaz attack.

Mustang was, indeed, not wearing any pants. Well, at least he was wearing **some**thing...

"Oh, _no..._"

Mustang sighed. "Oh, yes. There is a story behind this, though. Some of the staff, including Hawkeye, were invited here to discuss a few changes within Headquarters a few weeks ago. Havoc and I put forth an entirely reasonable motion stating that the women should wear miniskirts. Hawkeye shot us down. Well, she shot Havoc down. I escaped unscathed. I think she pitied the eye patch, really. Missed on purpose."

Ed regained some coherency. "So the reason why Havoc's locked in the bathroom is..."

"Yes. We both have to wear the skirts for - well, I think I have to wear it for three days and Havoc has to wear it for a week."

Ed glared. "You could at least shave yer legs beforehand or something! I mean, dammit! Did you see my retinas burning!"

Al looked back at his brother. "Well, it doesn't bother me that much, brother."

"It bothers me, dammit. Mustang, if I was General or whatever I'd order you to march home right now and shave your legs."

Mustang's shoulders quivered. He tried to make it look like he was going to start crying. "March? Home? You don't hate me **that** much, right, Fullmetal?"

Ed was impervious to Mustang's (bad) acting. "Imagine how Havoc feels! He doesn't have a desk to hide behind!"

"He's got a bathroom stall, though," Al chirped helpfully.

Mustang paused, then sighed with relief. "Oh, so _that's_ why the whole military's in the hall."

"Yep. Anyways, now that we've got that sorted out, is there anything we should be doing right now?"

"Thank you for changing the subject, Al, and yes, you do have something you should be doing. Here," he said. He took two sheets from a small pile of papers on his left and handed one each to the Elric brothers. They appeared to be identical except where the first name of the assignee was concerned.

Al finished reading his first. "But I thought we were all going to the Drachman front!"

"Well, the rest of us are. Apparently, you and Fullmetal will be a week behind. There's just one thing in Cairn Pass we need you to check up on. Rather, one person."

Ed raised an eyebrow, still rereading his letter. "Another doctor? Let me guess, he's been AWOL since Ishbal and you want him back?"

"No. The doctor's been doing research on flight since the incident with that... thing. We just want you and Al to check up on 'em."

"Right. It doesn't say his name here, though. What is it?"

"Dr. Bernotti. We can't put it in the letter for security reasons. We **are** at war, you know."

"Uh-huh. Right, so, we leave this afternoon?"

"You can leave whenever. Just don't torture Havoc too much."

"Sure...?" It was then that Ed saw the brilliance of the situation. Havoc was so self-conscious about the issue that he had managed to draw oodles of attention the one time he didn't want it. Mustang, by taking it in stride, as he had a way of doing with things like this, had fooled even Ed long enough that nothing was different so that **no** attention was attracted to the fact that he was halfway crossdressed. Even Ed had to admit that Mustang had gotten this one down to a science. He shrugged and left the room, leaving Al to salute, apologize and say a friendly goodbye.

The insanity outside the office had shrunk, but only slightly. It seemed that Havoc had done the same thing to the cubicle as he had to the door. Ed considered removing that line of defence, but then imagined the sight he would behold as a result of this and ceased to consider it. Havoc's wailing had become more like sobbing. The regular trappings of Mustang's office (Breda et al.) were still imploring that he give it up and come out. No luck. Ed passed them by without a second glance.

Ed saw that he had no choice in the matter of the mission. Really, he had wanted to go to the front. Maybe he could have done something to end the fighting or maybe he could have seen if there was a way to do so. He didn't want to go to some godforsaken boondock he'd never heard of to see if some old man he'd never cared about had invented the airplane yet. He wanted to go with the crew at Central he had befriended over the years and be in the thick of the action.

He didn't want to come back to an empty building.

He didn't want to come back to an empty office.

-

_He staggered into his apartment, exhausted from a long, frustrating day of repetitive paperwork. Thank the powers that be that it was Friday. He considered lying on the couch and never getting up._

_Ah! Right. It was Friday._

_He extended his stagger over to the phone and picked it up. However, he stopped as his index finger went to dial the number._

_Who was it this week...? Oh, right. He had had some bad luck this week. He hadn't caught the eye of any particular woman, and, quite frankly, none of them had caught his eye. Maybe Hawkeye would go on an impromptu **NO**. She'd never. And he cared too much for her to make her suffer his... excessive charm._

_He put the phone back on the receiver and smirked to himself. Even though there had been a drastic drop in the number of dates he'd had recently, Havoc would have yet another story come Monday about how Mustang the Dragon had kidnapped his fair damsel. Again._

_He hung up the phone and somehow made it to his bed before he fell. He didn't get up for sixteen hours._

-

A/N: Okay, I know I'm going to get flamed for the "feisty little shit" bit. But look! I made up for it what with the fluff hinting and stuff before the flashback thing!

Semi-Historical-Let's-Traverse-The-Gate-Today-Kids-Note: Dr. Bernotti's name is based off of that of a certain dead guy by the name of Bernoulli. I will assume you all know who that is, yes? Yes.

Now review, slaves.


	3. To Self Destruct

Weltschmerz

Durch Hanomaru

Disclaimer: I am sick and tired of writing disclaimers. Havoc, could you please say it?

Havoc: Fine. Hanomaru doesn't own Fullmetal Alchemist. All she has is her computer and her sick, disgusting mind. I hate her.

Han-chan: And with good reason. I'm sorry. I swear you'll get your dignity back later.

Warnings: Just some slightly coarse language.

A/N: Much thanks and love again to DaRLinG1357. Bernoulli was the guy who discovered that something that is curved on the top and flat on the bottom, such as a wing, generates an inequality of air pressure on either side of the wing and creates a phenomenon that is today known in aviation as "lift," or, occasionally, the "Bernoulli effect." His research laid the foundations for those who pursued heavier-than-air flight. I hope that wasn't too long-winded... (Okay, that was a horrible pun. I'm sorry.)

To VadMustang as well, along with apologies for the disturbingness of it all. (Ed -did- have the perfect opportunity for blackmail, but he didn't take it. What does this tell you:3)

-

**Selbst-zerstören**

Ed and Al picked up what few possessions they needed from their hotel and proceeded to the train station, discussing what they should do if the good doctor had not, in fact, discovered how to fly. Should they help him along? Should they throw paper airplanes at him until he gets it? Should they just go home?

"But if we leave him, he might never get it, and then what?"

"Amestris goes on without powered flight, like it's done forever. It's not like it's a necessity."

Al paused and decided that the subject was in need of changing. "Brother, in all our travels, have we ever heard of a land across the sea?"

Ed put his hand to his chin and pondered this. "Hmm... Well, there is some mention of it in Xing lore, but it doesn't say much and I don't know much Xing lore except what was in Tucker's library."

"But across the Gate, there're two continents that aren't on any maps on this side. Why?"

"'Cause everyone on this side is too lazy to get off their damn asses and pull a Columbus."

"But--"

"Enough buts, Al! Let's just go meet the geezer and show him how to make an airplane!"

"Well, we could..." Al's voice faded to mumbling some other plan.

"Huh. Good idea. We've got two weeks for this before they drag us to the front anyways. We've got time. Okay, we'll do that, and** then** we meet the geezer and show him how to make an airplane. That okay with you?"

Al nodded vigorously. "Yeah!"

They walked into the familiar Central Train Station and purchased their tickets. Half an hour later, they were on a train departing east.

Back on the platform, a man watched them leave without them seeing him. His face was hidden in the collar of a black trench coat.

He decided to take the next train instead.

-

Ed and Al got off the train. Al waved goodbye to the numerous children he had entertained during the trip.

"I don't know how you can stand kids, Al. They're so... childish!"

"Brother, just because your childhood was cut short doesn't mean you have to be jealous of a few five-year-olds," Al teased.

Ed's figurative feathers ruffled slightly. "Quiet, you."

Al just chuckled.

They continued to walk and tease one another with barely a care until they were about two hundred metres from their destination.

Ed stopped walking and looked ahead with a confused look on his face. Al turned and looked back at his brother, then revolved to look at what he was looking at.

A small crowd had gathered in front of the house. The brothers recognized every face immediately, and ran the rest of the way. No one was talking. They were all just waiting apprehensively for something to happen. The silence was only broken by Ed's and Al's footsteps and the occasional mumble from one person to the other.

Ed put a hand on one of his neighbours' shoulders. "Hey... What's going on?"

"Ed! I'm glad you're here. We don't know what's going on. The door's locked, and we're still waiting for the authorities to come and see what's wrong."

"Are Winry and Pinako still in there?" Al asked, concerned for his best friends' safety.

The man turned to Al and started to explain. "Yeah, but it's not--Ed?!" The Ed was already at the door with the angry face on.

"Al, get over here! Right now, we're the authorities!" Ed prepared to kick the door in.

Al rushed onto the porch and stopped Ed. "Brother! We don't know what's going on in there. If someone's waiting behind that door with a gun, I can't stop him anymore! We'll get hurt, I'm sure of it!"

Ed wrenched his leg out of his brother's hands and began to explain. "If there was a guy with a gun behind that door, Al, do you really think he wouldn't have **_SHOT US THROUGH IT BY NOW?!_** You're practically screaming! Shaddap and let me beat his ass in!"

"Brother!"

It was too late for Al to protest. Ed had already gotten himself in position for a very official-like B&E. In an instant, he had landed a perfectly placed kick on the lock, effectively breaking it open, and had alchemized his arm into his famous blade. He did a 360-degree survey of the room, sword-arm pointed threateningly, and continued on to search the house. The main floor seemed to be empty. He descended into the basement, followed by Al, and found no one again as he searched. They were heading back upstairs when Al twirled around and readied himself for an attack. Ed looked back at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Al, there's no one down there, and the only window is too small for an anorexic to get through. Let's go."

"No. Someone's down there, I know it."

"Bull. Up we go, now."

Al didn't move. "Someone...?"

Ed's eyes widened. He ran downstairs again and flew to a nearby bronze statue of a tall, rather attractive man wearing what seemed to be either a sleeveless bathrobe or a very odd dress. Ed inspected it, made faces at it, and gave it the full run-down. He turned and faced Al, hands on his hips, and said, "Now, now, did the big scawy stachoo fwighten wittle Al? Poor baby."

Al was paralyzed. He stood, eyes wide and mouth open, for a full three seconds before he yelled for his brother to move, but it was too late. A dark figure, definitely not the statue, had Ed in a headlock. It had come out from behind the statue. Al cursed his own incompetence and charged the figure. He tried to help his brother wrestle free, but it was like trying to take a steak from the mouth of a starving dog. The Unknown threw Al into the statue with its free arm. The force of the blow put a dent in the statue and nearly knocked Al out. Ed's eyes, moving frantically, could only watch what he perceived as the vague outline of his brother slide to the floor. He was already battling against it, lashing out with his sword-arm to no effect. Al brought himself to his feet, eyes still downcast. Something cracked.

Everyone stopped. Al stared at his brother, frozen in the attacker's grip. It had stopped, too, and almost seemed horrified at Ed. Al knew what the crack was, and he wasn't looking too talkative.

Another crack, then a metallic creak like a train's wheels beginning to spin. Behind Al, the statue had stepped off of its pedestal and moved to pull the Unknown away from Ed. The statue's massive strength (for an inanimate object) was more than enough, and it sent the Unknown flying. Ed steadied himself and sucked in the sweet air. Al ran to his side.

"Brother! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, (gasp) yeah, I'm fine. (gasp) Just a little surprised, that's all. Let's (gasp) get out of here before whatever that was comes after us."

Since there really was nothing better to do, Al agreed. The statue decided it was in its best interests to follow them. As they ran up the stairs, Al gave it a quick thank you. It nodded.

They all ran to the second floor, making more noise than seemed possible for them to do, and searched all the bedrooms and the bathroom. Finally, all three met in the hall and gathered outside one door, ready to storm the room beyond: the study. Ed and Al knew that the statue would soon freeze again, and to save Al some trouble, they ought to make good use of it soon.

They burst in and saw no one. Well, at least they thought it was no one for a second. Then, a chair that was standing directly in front of them turned.

It was Winry, and she had a shotgun pointed at the trio.

Ed was the first to try diplomacy. "Now, n-now, hey, Winry, put that down. We're not going to hurt you. It's okay. Everything is fine. We just wanna know why you've holed yourself up here," he jabbered.

She lowered the shotgun a little, revealing eyes filled with absolute, pure, total panic. She relaxed a tiny bit, then tensed and pointed the gun at them again. "No! H-how do I know you're not more of those... those... those _things_?!"

"What things? ... Like... The guy that attacked us?" Al asked as the statue behind him petrified itself once again. He tried to run to her. "Did they get you, t--"

She jabbed the gun threateningly at Al. "**DON'T MOVE!"**

Al obediently stopped. "Look, Winry, it's us. Really, it is! I don't know how we'd prove it to you, but we're the real--"

"Fine! Fine. Okay. You know what? I doubt he would be able to you on his side," she grumbled, and set the shotgun on the desk next to her.

Ed walked over to her and held her shoulders, his eyes drilling into hers, mining for an explanation. "Winry, what's wrong with you? You're not making any sense! _Who_ would be able to get us on his side"

"You wouldn't understand, Ed. Someone's after us."

Ed's brow furrowed, and he tried again. "Look, does this have anything to do with that guy who's been threatening you?"

Winry lowered her head. She shoved Ed away, stood up, and grabbed her trusty wrench. Ed instinctively brought his hands up to defend against flying tools. Instead of throwing it, she held it in front of his face. It was bent almost exactly 90 degrees in the middle. Winry growled, "This was my **favourite **wrench. That **bastard** **_BENT_** my **favourite** fucking **wrench**."

Ed's survival instincts told him to back away quickly, but he didn't. He tried not to make her angrier. He repeated, in an absolute monotone, "Winry. Does this have anything to do with the guy who's been threatening you?"

Winry stared at Ed. "...What guy?"

"The guy who kept threatening you because all his customers went to you instead."

"Ed... No one's been threatening me."

Ed was taken aback. Al rushed up next to him and looked at Winry with desperate eyes. "But, Winry, you wrote a letter to Mustang saying..." He stopped due the utter confusion that was Winry.

"Al, I haven't had time to write to Mustang for months."

Both brothers began madly calculating what circumstances could have led to this until Ed stood up, grabbed the shotgun, and stomped around the statue, out of the room and towards the stairs.

Winry ran after him, saying, "No! Ed, what the hell are you doing?! Get back here!" and such like, but Ed was hellbent on doing something very risky with that gun. She grabbed his arm, but he yanked it away and continued. Winry continued to protest and grabbed his ponytail at one point, but he just kept going until he was two steps away from entering the basement. Winry ran around him and looked at his face. He was looking straight ahead, surprised at what he saw. Winry followed his eyes to the front door.

There stood the one man Winry didn't want to see right now.

He smirked. "Bad dog. You ran the wrong way."

Ed grinned and replied, "I couldn't smell any biscuits in Cairn Pass."

Mustang's smirk faded and he walked in. Winry stared for a couple of seconds at the seemingly inconvenient long black jacket he was wearing, but Ed immediately understood that it was of utmost necessity to defend Winry's sanity. He stopped about five metres away from them and said, "It turns out you're not that easy to follow, Fullmetal."

Ed just shrugged and smirked in response.

Something collided with something else downstairs. Everyone, including a recently-arrived Al, ran to the basement door and watched for some clue as to the source of the noise. The Unknown lumbered to the base of the stairs as though one of its legs had been damaged badly. Ed thought he saw something sparkle in the vicinity of the injured leg.

Mustang sighed and asked, "You always have to put yourself in mortal danger wherever you go, don't you?"

Ed gave Mustang a disgruntled look and dropped the shotgun. He clapped and used part of the wall to alchemize the shotgun into some sort of grenade launcher. Mustang raised his eyebrows in combined wonder and puzzlement until Ed yelled "**FIREPOWER!**" in his face. It was just a look of puzzlement then. Ed looked back at the Brigadier General's face and rolled his eyes melodramatically. "There's a bomb in the end of this! Light it!"

Mustang hesitated. He was watching the movements of the thing. Ed was looking back to yell at him when he heard a dull _whunk_. He turned his head again and there it was, with one leg on the stairs. Its hand made jerky, odd movements to the side of its head. Its ear flipped open like a door to reveal a switch.

"It's... automail?"

Winry tensed and replied, "Yeah. It's made entirely of automail... but no one's controlling it. I don't know how it works, and I'd want to find out if it wasn't all homicidal at me. But... what's it doing?"

It turned on the switch with one jerky motion.

"_Diese vorrichtung wird selbst-zerstören in dreißig sekunden._ _Wir möchten ihnen für das verwenden eines Drach Industrieproduktes danken. __Zwanzig sekunden... Neunzehn... Achtzehn... Siebzehn..._"

Everyone's mind was racing after the android's strange pronouncement. Everyone started talking at once.

"The hell?!"

"What did it say??"

"You think I speak Drachman?!"

"Let's just get out of here!"

"_Zwölf... Elf..._"

Everyone agreed on escaping and ran out into the waiting crowd. Ed was the first to start screaming for everyone to stay back.

"_Drei... Zwei... Ein..._"

It seemed that time itself had slowed down.

"_Null._"

-

_Riza was getting worried about him. That was what really messed him up._

_Riza did take it as her job to take care of him, and he was perfectly happy to take care of her, too. Not that she needed it, though. But Riza was worried about his state of mind._

_Well, he was starting to sign some papers without prompting, but that was the only change he could think of, and if anything, he thought that would make her happy._

_He was seriously starting to consider taking her out on a date just to ease her nerves. He hated it when she was sad. She reminded him so much of someone or something he couldn't remember, but he hated seeing her unhappy in any case._

_Yet he couldn't... click with her. There was no other way to put it._

-

A/N: Gah... I hope the umlauts and stuff worked. Otherwise, well, I'm willing to bet there's a few PO'd peeps in the German language section. Yes, I know my German spelling and grammar is probably horrible shite, but please bear with me. I'm trying to learn.

Review again, slaves.


	4. The Dream

Weltschmerz

Durch Hanomaru

Disclaimer: Whatever. Don't own, but still think everyone should just have one big orgy and that would solve everything.

Warnings: Shonen-ai, perhaps some language, weirdness.

A/N: Thanks again to DaRLinG1537 for her loyal reviewing. I feel special

Ah! That's not the only reason I feel special. You may find this hard to believe, but I, Hanomaru, the Disgusting Wench with the Obsession with Anime, have... A DATE! ZOMGWTFx0rz! Anyways, on with the show. Heh.

-

**Traum**

Ed found himself in a strange place. Ed was accustomed to strange, but this was strange even by his standards. He was surrounded by some cloud of what was either mist or dust, and unable to see more than about half a metre in front of him. He appeared to be sitting, but couldn't feel the ground beneath him with his hands. He gave up making sense of it and sat for what felt like hours, just waiting for some motivation to move.

The fog thickened and thinned in patches. Once, Ed thought he saw a shoe floating slowly, turning and dancing through the air as though in microgravity. Another time, he caught a glimpse of an immense concrete structure distorting as it moved upside-down across the thinned patch. A thick patch then passed by and obscured even his own nose from his vision.

He thought he heard something in the endless silence and fog. He turned, ears focused with every fibre of their being on the direction from which the noise had come. It came again. It was Al's voice, slightly panicked, the kind he used when something minor had blown up into something outrageous. Ed shot up and ran towards the source. He ran for a few minutes before the fog started to thin. He slowed down when he saw an orangey-yellow light beyond it. His step became cautious as the light grew brighter until the fog disappeared from around him with a _whoosh_.

The light blazed everywhere. Explosions surrounded him. Ed knew already what was going on. Allied bombers were probably flying overhead, bombing this town because it contained a Nazi munitions factory. Probably.

He walked on, regardless of the fact that there was absolutely no one around, and no sound besides the explosions. He shut it all out in his mind and let his feet carry him to where Al's voice had come from. Even when a bomb landed in a house just ahead of him, he kept walking at the same pace until the fog came and ended him up elsewhere.

Now he was walking along the side of a busy street in Munich. He had been here before. He knew the exact time, the exact place. Everything was the way it had been on that day that he had resolved to reconstruct the Gate.

There was going to be a breeze passing him... now. There it had gone. He hadn't felt it, but knew it had passed by how his hair moved. Then a man in a car threw his cigar out a window onto the sidewalk, just as he had before. Ed 's heart began to dance. He knew what was coming next.

He turned his head. He had no control over the action. It was merely a repetition of what had happened before. His entire body was turned, and then he saw him.

A man, walking along the other side of the street, completely oblivious to everything. His blazer matched the colour of his hair precisely. His proud, stiff gait was unmistakeable.

Something else strange happened. Everyone and everything around them froze, but Ed and the man were still able to move. He did something Ed didn't remember him doing. He turned and looked Ed right in the eye. Then, instantaneously, the two were in the middle of the street, and Ed was face to face with a man who looked exactly like Roy Mustang.

The fog came again and carried them to a field near Risembul. Ed was back in his red coat, Roy Mustang in his uniform, and they stood, facing each other for seconds in silence as the wind whistled through the grass around them. The man began to speak, but not in words. He made no noise. He seemed to speak in ideas. Ed just knew what he was saying without actually hearing it. There was emotion in his communication: impatience, despair, concern.

Ed couldn't help himself. He embraced the man who had given him the inspiration to become a State Alchemist. He hung on as the field dropped away from under them. He knew that that gloved hand was on the back of his head, clasping Ed in a loving, protective embrace. The fog surrounded them again, and they were pulled apart by an unforgiving force.

The reality of the situation hit Ed. The fog was a combination of smoke, steam and leftover alchemical energy. This fog was far too familiar to him. He hit the ground, small, exhausted and confused. He looked up and saw a pale hand reaching to the heavens as the fog cleared...

...and Al's voice called him to wakefulness. Ed's eyes opened wide and took in his surroundings. There was Al, sitting by his bed, as he had been the entire time. He had a bit of gauze bandaged to his arm, but was otherwise as normal. There was Winry on the other side of the bed looking as relieved as she could look. Ed sat up and looked around. He was in a hospital, and that was all he knew. He reached up and touched his forehead. There was a bandage on it. Nothing big, just a little patch job. He looked at Al and asked what had happened.

"Well... that thing... exploded. The house is gone, but the insurance is enough for us to keep an apartment in Central, so I guess it's okay... Winry and I managed to get everyone away before the blast... except you and Mustang..." Al's eyes drifted away from Ed's face. Ed could practically read his brother's mind, and knew that Roy had been hurt badly. He looked over Al's shoulder and saw another bed behind him.

There was Roy, out cold, but still in pain, judging from his expression. His head and shoulders were heavily bandaged, and Ed could bet that that wasn't the maximum of his injuries. He remembered his dream and let thoughts cycle through his head until the truth presented itself.

"So he...?"

Al made a small, affirmative noise and nodded slightly. Ed's eyes stayed on his superior's face, searching for consciousness, hoping that he would be able to thank him.

Winry made a small noise. Ed turned around and looked into her eyes. She had to try multiple times before the words came out right. "I... have to tell you, Ed... I already told Al... Pinako was killed by that th-thing."

"What? How?"

"She tried to fight it two days ago, but she was just..." Winry tried to speak again, but found she couldn't. Ed hushed her. She gripped his arm and let her head fall on his shoulder. Ed hugged her, and Al walked around the side of the bed to try and comfort her. The girl they'd always known as their big sister, one of the strongest and occasionally scariest women they had ever known, was in need of their help. They let her cry.

Ed looked back at the man in the next bed and, even though he couldn't hear it, mouthed a sincere thank you before he, too, cried in grief for his Aunt Pinako.

-

A/N: Well, that was weird, wasn't it? I'm sorry if this chapter is utter crap. I wrote it in two hours and I was in an especially odd mood today.

Dreamy-flashbacky-things. Yaaay.


	5. To Ask

Weltschmerz

Durch Hanomaru

Disclaimer: You know, copyright laws are starting to get on my nerves a little... but that doesn't mean I own FMA. I don't.

Warnings: The flood of shonen-ai has begun. Still some language here along with the usual shitty writing that has come to be expected of me.

A/N: Yes, I realize that the last chapter made no sense. I apologize to VadMustang for hurting Roy. He's not quite dead yet! He's getting better! (Whether or not he pulls through is still in question, though, ne...?)

Thanks to hyperdude for your question (which I hope has been answered) and especially big thanks to Steeple333 for the constructive criticism. Best reviews I've ever had, frankly.

Okay! The title of the chapter has nothing to do with vampires or rabid foxes or anything like that! It's a German verb! Mnrah!

-

**Bitten**

Ed knew that even with the condolences of many a friend, he and Al were two of the very few who could help Winry.

However, he was not of a single mind at this point. There were many things he had to do at this point. There was Pinako's funeral, of course, but there was also the Drachman Front to go to, Bernotti to bother, and...

Of course, that could wait. It would have to.

The hospital staff had decided to keep Ed there for observation, in case the explosion had caused brain damage or something. Al and Winry came to visit as much as they could, but for the better part of his days Roy was Ed's only company, and comatose isn't exactly a state for deep philosophical discussion. Thus, Ed would just watch him, watch the nurses put a little more morphine in one of the multitudinous IV drip baggies, and watch him some more.

It intrigued Ed that no one came to see Roy, or perhaps that Ed was asleep when they did. He would have thought at least Riza would come occasionally, or Havoc. Havoc respected Roy greatly as a superior officer, Ed knew that, and Riza was like his gun-toting big sister. Yet no one came. As far as Ed knew, not even the flies approached Roy's bed.

_This is bullshit. I've been fine for a week. If they'd just let me run around and spar, then that would be better for observation, wouldn't it? I mean, obviously I'm in good working order when I'm lying around doing nothing, but... Well, maybe it's okay. Least I get free food. If there's nothing else to love about Amestris, there's the free health care for soldiers. _He ceased his pondering momentarily and looked back over at Roy's face. The brows were still slightly scrunched from pain, the jaw was still clenched, and the morphine was evidently doing cream of dink. _But why did he do that for me?_ Ed could only assume that it was because Roy had been stuck with basically babysitting him since he was twelve years old. _I thought that'd make him hate me._ _Hell, I'd think having some attitudinal punk brat in your office waiting for you to tell them where to bugger off to would be a bit of a strain. Well, I guess there are worse jobs, like garbage disposal or something._ Ed's train of thought went down another track, then another, then another for hours until something caught his attention.

The expression on Roy's face was relaxing. That meant either he was waking up, or...

The beeps from the heart rate monitor were speeding up. _Good sign_, thought Ed. A finger twitched, and Ed sat up from his pillow so that he could watch what could perhaps be a bit of a comedy. _The usually composed, self-assured Brigadier General wakes up in a strange place with bandages all over him and no idea what the fuck is going on. I like this movie already and it hasn't even started._

A small grunt came from deep in Roy's throat, then a sigh. His right eye, the one that wasn't covered by the still-present eye patch, cracked open. He inhaled deeply, then the eye surveyed the room, or what little he could see of it. It stopped at Ed. A small, pained smile crossed his pale face. His lips parted and whispered something Ed could only barely hear. Then the eyes and lips slowly closed again. The beeps from the heart monitor were farther between. The man went back to sleep.

Ed was somewhere between baffled and furious. He clenched his teeth and hissed between them, "**Riza??**"

Okay, either Roy had mistaken him for a girl, he was nearly blind, or Riza was standing right behind Ed. His head whipped around to look for her, but no luck. He turned back to where he was, moved his hair out of his face - and then realized the problem.

His hair was the same length as Riza's when they both had their hair down, not to mention that they were both blondes and about the same height. Ed smacked himself in the forehead for his stupidity and looked around madly for a string or an elastic band or something. He succeeded and quickly tied his hair back into the distinctly 'Ed' style of a ponytail set on the upper part of the back of his head. _Heck_, he thought, _I should probably braid it, just to make sure._ He decided not to and sat back, waiting for Roy to wake up again.

It turned out that he didn't have to wait very long. Fifteen minutes later, Roy's eye flew open and his arms jumped in surprise. Ed pretended to look vaguely surprised when Roy asked where Riza was.

"I don't know. Why?"

Roy slouched a little and said, "Well, she was just here, wasn't she?"

"Uh, no. Are you thinking right?"

"Probably not." He affected a sly smile and flopped back onto his pillow.

Long moments passed in silence.

"Mustang."

"Yes?"

A pause gave Ed time to compose himself... and clench his fist.

"**_WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF MORON ARE YOU??_**" Ed flew into a rage, quite clearly expressing his frustration (in what was certainly not high diction) at why Mustang had tried to protect him from the blast. He went on for minutes on end, pausing only occasionally to inhale. Roy simply sat in his permanent state of all-your-base-are-belong-to-the-Mustang, observing Ed like a king surveys his land; it was just the right mixture of contempt, pomp and, oddly, satisfaction. Nurses arrived eventually, but didn't bother to try and stop Ed. Even the ones who had never been in this room before knew what an unstoppable tantrum looked like.

"**_...AND THEN YOU JUST LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT LIKE I OWE YOU OR SOMETHING!_**"

Absolute, dead silence. Roy looked back over his shoulder at the nurses as if to say, 'Well? What?' A couple of them blushed, giggled and left following the rest. The last one out closed the door.

He sighed again and turned back to Ed. He composed himself like a teacher whose pupil just asked a fascinating question. He said, very calmly, "Your brother is the only other alchemist we know of in this world who has talents that are anything close to yours. I, on the other hand, am about as unique as a bird's feather. Flame alchemy can be taught, passed on, shared. Logically, that makes me more expendable than you."

Ed looked like he was about to spontaneously combust. His face was glowing purple and his automail hand was wrecking the railing on the side of his bed. "**You. Fucking. Idiot!** I am **no** more or less 'expendable' than you. We're both alive, aren't we? We're both human, **aren't we**?? It doesn't matter which one of us dies, there's still someone dead afterwards and that's all that matters to the military! Either way, we just end up as a number! And if you'd died, they'd have lost a Brigadier General, not some... kid!" Ed's rage had cooled a little bit, and his thoughts ran to a more understandable, yet also more unusual, hypothesis.

He said, almost disturbingly calmly, "It had nothing to do with logic, did it?"

Roy, who had been looking at the wall through Ed's rant, looked back at him and started to say something.

"You just did it to get Winry on your side! You're looking for a way to atone for what happened in Ishbal, and **bam**, an opportunity presents itself! Lucky break or what, Brigadier General _Shit?!_"

Roy stared at Ed for a second, lowered his head, groaned and massaged his bandaged temples. Ed folded his arms and decided to sulk at the opposite wall. He mentally reprimanded himself._ Well, that was a stupid move on my part. I mean, yeah, it made no sense, but he still saved my life._ He looked out of the corner of his eye at Roy. _And it's not like I'm still the brat I used to be. _He smirked inwardly. _But being a nice boy never really worked for me._ _Ah, well. I guess I could try it..._ He tried to erase the hostility in his mind and turned himself to Roy again. "Um..."

No reaction.

"I'm... sorry."

"It's okay. I've had worse said to me."

Awkward would be too weak a word to describe the feelings in the room. The air was heavy with it. Ed could feel his heartbeat as though it was sinking slowly into depths of his stomach. _Winry..._

"Not from Miss Rockbell, actually."

_Okay, now that's just freaky. Is he even human? I mean, he survived a huge blast, he can talk with all those bandages all over his neck, and now he can fucking read MINDS._

Roy looked over. His eyebrow gave an upwards twitch. "What's wrong?"

Ed realized that his weirded-out-ness was showing in his face and quickly changed it to the worst smile he'd ever faked. "N-nothing! Everything's fine!"

"Oh." His voice changed somehow. To someone who had only recently met Roy, it would sound like he was just about to go to sleep. It was quiet and smooth. In this tone, he said, or maybe even semi-whispered, "I'm glad."

Again with the beyond-awkward silence. It was starting to make Ed nervous just how much tension could exist between two people. He thought this might be a good time to tell Roy something that had been on his mind for quite a while.

"Do you want to know what made me want to come back?"

It was like watching a massive sea creature rising from the depths. Roy clenched his jaw and braced himself to slowly move his torso forward. Ed didn't even want to imagine the pain of stretching the wounds in his back, not all of which were guaranteed to be closed. He pulled it off with a face that was deliberately staying without emotion. He stopped and supported himself with an arm on the guard rail of his bed. He reached up and brushed some of the hair from his eye. That eye held all the emotion that both eyes would have held, but more focused. He watched Ed with that intent eye, waiting for him to speak again.

The attitudinal little voice in Ed's head groaned, _Oh, fuck, this is going to sound SO stupid..._ Ed blew off the thought and continued.

"Well... it was... you."

Roy tilted his head ever so slightly to the side. The intent eye fixed itself on Ed's own eyes. His eyebrows scrunched a little. "Come again?"

Ed was feeling less and less hostile to the man in front of him. He told him about that day in Munich without pausing once to recollect his thoughts. The little voices in the back of his head that usually told him what not to do were unusually noisy with the smacking of their figurative foreheads. Yet there was the one spark in Ed's mind that said that Roy had long since earned his trust.

Roy put on a smile, pain edging the corners of his mouth, and said, "That's odd for you, Ed. I'd expect that it would have been the thought of Winry or some hot girl that would make you come back, but me? I must say, I'm honoured."

"Hey. Enough sarcasm."

"None present."

"Oh. 'Kay..."

He was grateful when a rather stocky nurse barged in and shouted, "OKAY! Which one a' you's Edward Elric?"

Ed raised his hand and stared at the admittedly she-male-esque nurse.

"Righ'. Yer bein' discharged right 'ere. Don' ferget any valleybles er gif's on yer way out." She read through her clipboard again. "So you mus' be that Brigadear Gen'ral guy, then."

Roy, suppressing a 'Speak properly, woman!', said, "Yes. What about me?"

"They need ya at the fron'. Somethin' 'bout a permotion..."

"**_WHAT?!_**" It was the loudest noise Roy had made in a week or longer, so everyone stared.

"Says 'ere the C'mander's bin 'sassernated, so you gotta move up er som'thin'."

_Damn, the Drachman front must be a bitch, then,_ thought Ed.

"So yeh been discharged too. Both o' yeh're goin' ter be shipped off termorrer." She stashed her clipboard who-wants-to-know-where and charged out of the room to terrorize some other patients. She bustled past another nurse who had been outside the door and left with a vociferous SLAM. It offered contrast to the usual dead silence she left behind, which extended itself for a long fifteen seconds, until they were both quite sure she was out of earshot.

"Thousand cens says she's blasted on the job."

Roy chuckled and said, feigning offence, "We should sue the hospital," followed by a theatrical scoff.

"Well, hey, if you gotta deal with wailing nut jobs all day, you might as well not remember it, eh?"

They ended up having an entire conversation on the virtues of alcohol in all its forms until they realized that they did indeed have to leave the hospital eventually.

"I'm sort of wondering what you can do when you're all torn up like that..."

"This is nothing. I've had girlfriends who did worse." He tried to rotate his arm in its socket to show Ed it was okay, but stopped after about ninety degrees and grabbed his upper arm with a grunt.

Ed hopped out of bed and ran over. "Look, hey, I was asking a question! I wasn't asking you to hurt yourself!" He put his left hand on the injured shoulder.

To his surprise, Roy didn't flinch or pull away. He just let the hand sit there until he said, "Other hand."

"'Scuse me?"

"Put your automail hand there."

Ed hesitated with a combination of confusion and vague creeped-out-ness on his face, but he did as his Briga - no, there was the impromptu promotion to consider - Commander General ordered. It was a bit awkward, since he was nearly elbowing Roy in the nose, but it looked like it was helping somehow. Roy relaxed a little. "Um... what did I do?"

"It's cold."

"Ah." He had no idea why cold would help much, especially since his automail arm would eventually just warm up anyways, but apparently it did help. _Life is full of odd things._

The awkward silences were starting to get disconcerting now.

"So... uh... How do you plan on getting out of bed?"

"Well, I guess someone will just have to get a wheelchair."

Ed managed to procure the requested wheelchair after asking for help from a nearby nurse in the hallway. However, as soon as she walked in and saw Roy, she clasped a hand over her mouth and ran back out of the room. Ed thought he heard the stifled sound of mad giggling. He rolled his eyes and wheeled the chair over. Roy had already gotten his legs over the edge of the bed and insisted that he didn't need any help getting into the wheelchair. Well, no matter what kind of Superman he thought he was, Ed still kept a hand on his back just in case. Once Roy was safely in the chair, they went down the hallway.

Various staff members turned their heads to look at Roy. There was quite a bit of whispering involved and Ed could have sworn that there was a plague of giggleitis in that hospital. Every doctor, nurse and orderly stifled some form of noise. Ed presumed this was because Roy was casting some loving looks at the ladies, but dumped that idea when Roy turned around and asked him just what they thought was so funny. Ed assured him that it wasn't either of their faults, yet the tittering persisted until they made it to the front desk. There was the wad of nurse that had burst in before, clipboard in hand and spirits likely in desk. She looked at them, checked off their names and pointed at a pile of clothes on the desk. "Thos'r yers. Take 'm b'fore sommin else does."

Every person in the room was watching Roy as he reached for the pile of blue uniform from his chair. Ed could sense that they were recording every nanosecond of this within their medical minds. As Roy was sorting through the pile, he paused... and pulled out the fateful miniskirt.

The entire room burst into violent, paralyzing laughter save Ed, Roy and the ape in the teal dress. Ed was too busy preparing for homicidal rage at the staff and Roy was too busy calculating how to protect his masculinity after this.

After the ordeal of obtaining a proper pair of pants for Mustang, seeing as the miniskirt was hardly necessary after the week and a half they'd been in hospital, they returned to the front desk where the ape-nurse shoved a bunch of papers in Roy's face.

"Y'gotter sign these b'fore yer offishly a C'mander Gen'ral."

Roy groaned, took the papers, and signed them all without even reading them. Then, just as he was setting them down, he paused, shot a penitent look at the miniskirt and skimmed through each one just to make sure he didn't just make a moron of himself. After ascertaining that no feminine articles of clothing were involved, he sighed in relief and handed them to Ape-Lady.

_When Hawkeye wants to teach him a lesson, she does it well,_ Ed thought. _He's never gonna **not** read a form again._

-

_He woke up again._

_Ever since the incident with the Gate, he'd have at least one nightmare a night. No - it wasn't really a nightmare. Nightmares don't have happy things in them, do they? No. Of course not. So he'd just call them dreams. Not good dreams, not bad dreams, not oh-my-god-what-was-my-subconscious-smoking dreams, just... dreams._

_Some of the scenarios consisted of the sort of thing that he'd fantasized about as a teenager. You know, being the knight in shining armour for some incredibly sexy girl caught in the rubble of a collapsed house or something like that. Now, though, they had stopped appealing to him. He wanted someone else to take the place of the random hot chick._

_Sometimes, this want was so strong that it scared him. That was what woke him up._

_Ever since the incident, he had wanted someone he didn't want to want._

-

A/N: And, of course, everyone who even has an inkling of my existence knows _exactly_ who that someone is, right? Right. So next chapter is the happy-fluffy-squee chapter.

I'm sorry this took so long to post. My Net access was... um... "restricted" by certain relatives of mine.


	6. To Answer

Weltschmerz

Durch Hanomaru

Disclaimer: Damn, copyright laws are a bitch. I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist in any way, shape or form. Really.

Warnings: Language, lead-up to shonen-ai (it's inevitable with me), usual shitty writing.

A/N: Please excuse the extreme (aka months) lateness of this chapter. Don't blame me! I had no Internet!

-

**Antworten**

It took quite a bit of convincing on Roy's part to get Ed to let him walk around on his own without the wheelchair, but he got it eventually. He convinced Ed that his legs weren't really that badly hurt. Really. So, he got up and walked around for a bit around the small market that had grown around the train station. He walked past fruit stalls selling fresh apples just come into season, sir, half price just for you. He pretended to be interested in some translucent white cloth as the woman selling it went on a lecture about how it was from some ancient city in the south across the sea. He nodded gratefully at the woman for her very informative speech and stood up. It was then that he saw exactly what he was looking for.

There, across the street, was a bar.

He walked as quickly as the pain of his wounds would let him back to the train station only to see another pleasant surprise: his loyal subordinate Havoc had arrived. He was talking to Ed, evidently about something amusing. Either that or Ed had something stuck to his face that he didn't know about. Havoc leaned back, scratched the back of his neck, saw Roy, and promptly saluted. Ed half-turned around, put on his patented stare of utter disinterest, then turned back and kept talking.

"So, as I was saying, yeah. At our expense, though."

Havoc blinked at him. "Oh?"

"One word oughta do it for you: miniskirt."

"Ah. So that's why he's in your pants."

As he looked at Havoc's amused smile, Ed somehow felt he was missing out on some military in-joke. He shook it off and said, "Well, yeah. Personally, I'm amazed they fit."

Roy grabbed for their attention. "Lieutenant? What are you doing here?"

"Sent to escort you and the Fullmetal Alchemist, sir."

"This early? The train doesn't even leave until tomorrow morning." Roy looked as casual as he could as he walked over. "But, since that's the case, we'd just be an obstacle for the other people here. Let's go elsewhere for now and find a place to stay tonight."

Ed dragged himself to his feet and made an indicative gesture at the wheelchair. "First," he declared, "you're back in the chair."

Roy sighed, walked over and sat in the chair. Havoc gave an inquisitive look, then shrugged and waited for Ed to push Roy out of the station and onto the street. Roy immediately began giving directions to the bar he had sighted, and Ed, amazingly, followed them without question. He didn't even flinch when he saw the sign next to the door reminding patrons of the newly raised legal drinking age. Ed just pushed Roy on in, entailed by a Havoc who was still amazed at the fact that Ed seemed to have turned into some sort of myrmidon1 compared to his former self. Roy eased himself out of the chair and took a seat at the bar. Ed sat on his left and Havoc sat on his right. The afternoon sun warmed their backs as the bartender asked them what they'd like.

-

All the regulars had come into the bar and many had gone after a bit of friendly chitchat with the bartender. Ed could immediately identify them as regulars; they walked like regular drinkers and had conversations that required more context than Ed knew of. His little party, in comparison, had become rather irregular. Roy had somehow become very quiet. Well, he wasn't Commander General Flapper-Face anyways, but now he was just sitting there holding his shot glass in a death grip while staring grimly at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Other than occasionally silently suggesting that the bartender might be allowed to refill his glass, he was either drinking or staring.

Havoc, on the other hand, was all tongue. It must have broken more than a few laws of physics that the beer in the bottle he was waving wildly hadn't spilled a drop on the floor. Either that, or Havoc was more experienced an arm-flailer than Ed thought. To match his hysterical gesticulation, he was speaking utter gibberish. It wasn't really all that loud, but he kept going on about something he had just been reminded of, then he would stop mid sentence and seem to have control of himself for a few seconds, and then he would go on about something else as he nearly shoved the bottle up Ed's nose or tapped its neck on the bar forcefully.

_Right,_ thought Ed. _Note to self: never get drunk. Actually, you know what? No booze for me, period._

Havoc turned to the bartender and shouted, "Yo! Buddyyyyyy! Bit o'er here, neh??"

Ed leaned over so that the bartender could see him and shouted, "Actually, he's had enough for tonight, sir."

"I can see that," noted the barman. Another customer smirked at Havoc's shameless knavery.

"'Ey! Whaddaya mean, Ed?? I'm fine! See? I could drive all a' ya home tonight!"

"But would we **live**?" came the grim and slightly slurred voice of Roy from behind Ed.

"Ah, shaddap, Colonel! You're the one who needs to live a little! You look friggin' dead! You were a riot las' time we went for a drink together! And the time b'fore that! An' b'fore that, too! Allllll the way back! The only difference this time is - " Havoc stopped and took a seat next to Ed. He sat dead still for a moment before he leaned towards him and started whispering with a voice far more sane than the one he'd been using for the past hour or two.

"It's you, isn't it?"

"What're you on about?"

"It's gotta be you. You're the reason he's so shy now. You're why he's all weird right now. You came back and he got all quiet-like. It's _gotta_ be you."

"_What_'s gotta be me, Havoc??"

Havoc paused, smiled and leaned back a bit, but still not far enough that what he whispered could be heard by Roy. "He likes you, you know."

Ed exhaled and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, sure. I was the child prodigy. He'd have to, to keep me safe and get promotions and - "

"Nonononono. He _**really**_ likes you."

"...As in creepy-pedo-thing?"

"I'd say yes, but you're a legal adult now."

Ed's eyes couldn't get any wider. If he didn't look and sound so serious now, Ed would think it was the idle talk of a drunk. He looked over his shoulder. There was Roy, looking at the mirror, same as usual. Ed looked back at Havoc. _He's got to be so smashed he doesn't know what he's talking about. Roy's as straight as straight gets, and even if he wasn't, there's, like, a decade and a half difference in age! He probably had his driver's license before I could talk! There is __**no**__ way he could be serious. __**NO**__ way._ Well, he kept thinking similar as Havoc let him do so, until he turned and made eye contact with Roy in the mirror.

Roy wasn't looking at his own reflection. He was watching Ed's.

"I'm amazed someone with your brains didn't realize it earlier," he grumbled, not changing his position or expression. "Havoc just told you, didn't he?"

"No. No way. This is just stupid. It's the booze, it's gotta be the booze." Ed's mind was racing. _No. This can't be right. They're both drunk beyond belief. They're playing me for a fool. They must've planned this out beforehand, just to scare me._

Havoc started in on his whispering again. "Ed, in all my military life, do you think I wouldn't have learned to hold my liquor?"

"I don't believe you. You're a nasty - You're **both **nasty bastards, you know that?" Ed was glaring madly at Havoc. "Tricking some poor, impressionable kid like me into thinking he's got a pedostalker just to scare me! Well, too bad! I'm not that gullible!"

Havoc grabbed Ed's shoulders and spun him around to face away from him. There was Roy, looking out the corner of his eye at the real Ed instead of the reflection in the mirror. "Don't hate me, Ed," he mumbled. "I wanted him to keep it secret. Please believe me." He turned full face to Ed and Havoc and said, "And please shut up, Lieutenant."

"Come on, sir. I'm trying to help you out here!"

"Well, you're not. Especially of you're going on about it in a public place at - " he glanced over at a clock on the opposite wall - "one in the morning."

Havoc's eyebrows hopped up for a split second before he turned to the bartender. "Hey, man, you know where the nearest hotel is?"

"Sure. Right at the end of this block there's a nice place, but it's pretty expensive."

Roy shrugged and indicated that the lot of them should go. Havoc had to give up a fair bit of cash for his share of the check, Roy had to nearly empty his pockets, and Ed just rolled his eyes, put down a few coins for the tip and agreed to pay for the inn.

-

_Spite, thy name is Havoc,_ Ed thought bitterly as he pulled his blanket up to his nose. _Not only are we in trouble for breakfast tomorrow, but I can't sleep properly either. Not with either of them over there. _He withheld the homicidal tendencies that wanted to get out at the memory of the two drunks and their synchronized tirade about Roy.

_But... It sounded way too serious. Both of them seriously sounded like they were sober. Roy himself didn't make any jokes about it. He seemed... sad. If he likes me that much... No way. He can't like me any more than I like him, and that isn't much. Well, it would be kind of cool to have __**some**__body on my side. NO! No. Thinking like that's not going to get me anywhere. Ew. Well, "ew" may not exactly be the word. I might as well face it: countless Central girls can't be wrong. I've heard them walking by in the halls, going on about how attractive and considerate he is. I can't really deny it. Nobody's ever praised my eye for guys, but compared to most of the men I've met in my life, he's not half bad. No! He can't... like me. He's got to be smarter than to go after me. I'm __**way**__ too young for him and as far as he knows, I'm straight. Then again, the heart and the brain aren't really very closely connected, are they? After all, __**I'm**__ starting to sort of not hate the idea. I might as well just not bother trying to understand it. I should just play it by ear and see what happens. Good luck to me._2

He sighed, drifted out of his state of deep thought and looked across the medium-sized room to see Roy asleep. His eyebrows were still scrunched from the pain of his wounds, but his condition seemed to have improved since the hospital. His fists weren't in danger of being cut by his fingernails.

Ed felt a wash of empathy engulf him and thought of when Roy came to the Rockbells' house - the one that no longer existed - and saw young Ed suffering the consequences of alchemical arrogance. Was this anything like what he felt? Did he have that much concern for a boy he had never met, whom he only knew previously as the child of an acquaintance?

Did he care that much now?

Ed groaned quietly and turned his thoughts to caring for Al and Winry.

-

**SUPESHARU! Extra-long flashback!**

_He sat silently, chair turned so that it could face out the window. He wasn't thinking about the way the sunlight glittered off the snow, or how the paths across the field had pummelled it into hazardous ice. He was thinking about something else entirely._

_Well, he __**was**__ until the door opened quietly behind him. He already knew, by the heaviness of the footsteps, the time between them and the faint scent of tar, whom it was. He turned only slightly to see Havoc salute him._

_Havoc stayed in position until he got a full view of his superior's face, then slowly, hesitantly, dropped his arm. "You look tired."_

"_I am. What do you need, Lieutenant?"_

"_No, you really look tired. You should take a day off. Are you sick?"_

_Roy turned and stared out the window again. He waited in silence for Havoc to add something, but nothing came to his ears. He thought for a while, then said softly, "Maybe I am."_

_He knew Havoc's left eyebrow was up into his hairline without even seeing it disappear. Havoc said in a serious tone, "I know that look."_

_Roy turned back and tried to look interested._

_Havoc grinned. "Who's the lucky girl?"_

_Roy tried as best he could to contain his anger and embarrassment at the question. "What are you implying??"_

"_You're sick, sir, yes. You're __**love**__sick. So? Who is she?"_

_Roy furrowed his eyebrows and rubbed his left temple with his hand. He mumbled, "There is no 'she'."_

_Havoc dropped the grin and took a step back. "I'm sorry to have made that assumption, sir. But really, you should take a day off. You're starting to worry some of the guys."_

_Just as he was about to leave, he stopped, did an about face, walked back to the desk and put both hands on it. "How can you be in love with a girl and..." Epiphany dawned on Havoc's face before understanding did. "Oh..."_

_Roy made a slow, slight nod._

_Havoc whispered, "So... who is __**he**__, then?"_

_Roy grunted, sighed and grumbled, "It doesn't matter. I just don't want the whole military knowing I'm..."_

_Havoc's voice went back to normal. "Well, maybe you're not. I mean, um..." He whispered again. "Even I had a couple of times in high school when, well..."_

"_No. It's been going on for weeks, Lieutenant."_

_Havoc paused with a pensive look on his face. "I could help keep it quiet, you know."_

_And thus, Roy's greatest secret came to reside with a man who was no longer just his subordinate, but one of his best friends._

-

A/N: **THERE WILL BE NO ROYxHAVOCKING IN THIS FIC.** Sorry, but no. If I don't list it in the main pairings, it doesn't go far. Period. Be glad you got the extra-long flashback, my slaves. So review or it will never happen again. Buwahaha.

Anyways! I'm suddenly filled with enough goodwill to make some more...

Semi-Historical-and-Vocabulary-Increasing Notes!:

1**Myrmidon**: The name for the group of soldiers led by the legendary Achilles in the Trojan War described in Homer's _Iliad_. They were famous for their ruthlessness and obedience, and thus their name has come to be ascribed to a subservient person, usually an employee, who will follow their superior's orders without question, no matter how cruel. Or, at least, that's how it's been used in my experience. It might not be exactly appropriate for Ed, but it works in some sense of the term.

2This entire block of thought is actually taken from Shakespeare's words and translated into the modern young adult's mind. Anyone who can name the play gets a cookie. Anyone who can name the character gets two. Anyone who can cite the act, scene and lines gets three cookies and a "Congratulations! You're Obsessed!" stamp.


	7. To Frighten

Weltschmerz

Durch Hanomaru

Disclaimer: (Might as well do a full one, seeing as I haven't yet.) I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any copyrighted idea, product or corporation I mention in this fanfiction. This fanfiction was written with no intention of using it for my own or anyone else's profit and is solely meant to entertain the reader. I offer my apologies to Hiromu Arakawa-sensei for defiling her brilliant work.

Caveat Lector: Language, talentless writing. Shonen-ai is upcoming.

A/N: I also offer my apologies to any readers whom I may have upset even in the slightest with my "abandonment" of the community. You see, because my parents fail to understand that a) my mind is not suited towards academics and b) this semester consisted of my four **least** favourite courses, they took away my Internet, assuming that that was the cause of my 74 average. (Note to them: If you want to see my grades improve, give me my Internet back, you illogical mortals you.) Therefore, I haven't been able to upload any new chapters onto the site except through the computers of others, resulting in a very low post rate. Again, my apologies and on with the story. (This note is from January, by the way.)

-

**Erschrecken**

Ed's worries were quieted with a phone call from Central the next day. As it turned out, Al and Winry were fine. Winry had gotten into a bit of a spat with her new landlord for wanting to re-establish her automail business in the apartment, as well as expressing her distaste for city life, but everything ended up working out. They managed to find a nice little shop space for lease that fulfilled both the needs of both Rockbell Automail and the ornery landlord. The injury on Al's arm, a minor laceration, had healed quickly and well. He was helping Winry out with the automail and occasionally managed to give "new life" to old automail. Winry would threaten him with the wrench for doing as such and made him apologize to the customers, who weren't entirely enthralled with self-delivering automail. Despite the amusement this brought, Al was still starting to miss Ed and was awaiting orders from Roy or Havoc or whoever else. Ed assured him that they would be returning to Central soon, gave the two his best wishes and hung up the hotel lobby phone.

Both his superiors were still fast asleep even though their train left in an hour. Ed would have already woken them up if it weren't for the hearing of their neighbours. Ed looked at the clock, looked at the hotel owner at the desk, said good morning, looked at the icebox behind his desk and suddenly had a very evil idea.

-

"**If you EVER try to pull something like that again, Fullmetal, I will personally ensure that you will not be able to. Do you understand me?**"

"Yes, _sir_." Ed tried to keep the sarcasm to a minimum.

"**Yes, sir, **_**what?**_**"**

"Yes, _sir_, I will not ever try to pull something like that again."

"**What made you think I deserved it?**"

"Well, you see, _sir, _our train leaves in three quarters of an hour, and since all previous attempts at waking either of you tosspots had failed, _sir,_ that was the gentlest way I could think of." _Of course, I forgot to take hangovers into account. Maybe if I'd poured hot coffee on his neck he'd be more pleasant about it. Thinking of which,_ "Would you like some coffee, _sir_?"

"**No.**"

"Mustang, calm down. It was just an ice cube." A drowsy, but definitely wakeful Havoc chimed in.

"**It was just **_**bloody cold is what it was**_"

"Easy! Easy! Okay, you know what, I'm just gonna go down and get that coffee anyways, right, _sir_?"

"**What the fuck ever**."

"He takes his with whatever's available, Ed."

"Seems like the type. See you in five, then." Ed laughed nervously, exited quickly, closed the door, and wandered past displeased or purely curious hotel-goers and down to the lobby to the small coffee stand in the corner. After obtaining holy liquid for three and its common partners in crime (milk, cream and sugar), he returned to the room to find Havoc sitting on his bed, smoking as usual, and Roy, once again, unconscious. Ed put down the milk, cream and sugar and began to tip Roy's coffee over his head.

"I'm thinking maybe not, Ed. Give me that." Havoc took the cup from Ed and put it to his lips. Roy promptly awoke and seized the coffee. After ensuring that Havoc had drunk none of it, he downed the whole thing in one go. Ed handed Havoc his coffee and started drinking his own after putting in a minimal amount of sugar.

"You know, Ed, it's a lot better if there's a little milk in it."

Ed glared.

"What? What did I say? Oh - You and your sick little mind. Jeez. Can't even breathe without getting a look like that. Please, just try it with milk - and no, I don't mean that."

"No."

Roy gave Ed a stare that would make a polar bear shiver. "Try some milk, Ed," he said flatly.

"No."

"Then give it to me."

"Like hell I am."

"One drop of milk, Ed. One drop of milk in a cup of coffee. That's all I'm asking you. Try it or give it."

Ed put down the cup and crossed his arms. "This is idiotic. I'm a goddamn adult now, in case you didn't notice. And I'm not putting goddamn milk in my goddamn coffee." He glared intently at Roy.

"Give it to me."

"No! You didn't even say 'thank you' or anything for your own!"

"I need it more than you do."

"Well, I can see _that_, but -"

"**GIVE IT TO ME!**" Roy leapt for the coffee, but hit a very surprised Ed instead, knocking Ed backwards into the head of his bed and knocking the coffee cup so that it made a large brown pool on the cheap wood flooring. Havoc pretended to be very interested in the design painted on the outside of his own cup. Screaming ensued, mostly "GIVE IT TO ME!" from Roy and "RAPE!" or "ASSAULT!" from Ed. Havoc tried to say something amidst the chaos about getting a room, but it was unheard and at best redundant. He proceeded to leave for more coffee.

Ed finally shoved Roy off about five minutes later and sighed hoarsely. "I'm hoping that was the alcohol."

"No."

Ed went into pre-flip-out mode. Hair: spiking, fists: clenching, eyebrows: twitching -

"It was the post-alcohol."

"A - Ah. Okay. Right. Thanks for that." A short silence followed.

"Can I have it, then?" Roy, almost cheerfully, asked.

"_**NO.**_"

Havoc re-entered. "Um, guys? We've been kicked out."

"Why, Lieutenant?"

"Because you two and your wild desire are getting some complaints from the neighbours."

Ed's face flushed deep red. "D-desire?! What the hell did they get that from?!"

"Okay, fine, just Roy's wild desire, then." Havoc sighed around his cigarette, sending a puff of smoke into their faces. "The guy says if we're out within fifteen minutes he'll give us our money back."

"You mean **my** money back," Ed grumbled.

"Sure, sure. But, fifteen minutes."

"Okay. We've got a lot of work to do, and I think I just... overextended myself. Ed, you clean up the coffee. Havoc, you get your clothes back in the bags. I'll... supervise." Ed rolled his eyes and grumbled many authority-questioning things, but went to get rags immediately. He once again went down to the front desk, apologized to the hotel manager, retrieved a yellow bit of cloth that could have been the sleeve of a white sweater at one point along with some paper towels and assured their still somewhat curious neighbours that they would no longer be a problem.

He stopped at the door. A conversation was happening beyond it and he wasn't sure if he wanted to get involved. So he waited, ear close to the door, until the opportune moment.

"...Look, Havoc, it's okay, I'm all right. I just pulled a stitch out is probably all."

_He's still in stitches?! Crap, I probably reopened a lot of his wounds when I was fighting him off... Dammit!_

"Sir, just let me say this: you should probably take it easy after we're in Central. Rest up, see the doctor often, wait until everything's healed over."

"No. I have a responsibility to the men who are fighting for this country up there."

_You also have a responsibility to live so that you can order them around, you dolt! I can see the obituary: "Died because his stupid responsibilities overruled his life." No frickin' way!_

"Sir, you really should wait. I have to go back, but the Elric brothers can look after you." Ed could almost hear a grin. "You'll get your chance then, right?"

A pause, then Roy cleared his throat. "I cannot imagine what you are implying."

"Oh, come on, sir. If there's one thing you're not, it's naïve. You know exactly what I'm implying."

Roy's voice was almost a growl. "He already knows, Havoc. You should remember that."

"Yeah, but apart from this morning, you haven't actually made a move yet."

"That was not a 'move', Lieutenant. That was a simple need for caffeine."

"Which conveniently ended up with you in his lap."

Ed blushed a bit when he realized that indeed it had. He heard Roy grumble quietly before a large amount of shuffling about drowned him out. Then, very quietly, almost inaudibly, he said, "I just don't want to frighten him."

Ed picked this moment to open the door slowly and begin mopping up the coffee with the paper towels. He could feel the stares on the back of his head. He turned around and barked "What?", then turned around again and continued mopping, perhaps a bit too violently. His hand made a sizeable dent in the floor. Ed grunted, alchemized the floor back to normal, and then used the rag to clean up what was left.

-

The situation, as Ed saw it, was both a blessing and a curse. They had gotten the cushy private compartment due not only to Roy's rank but his wheelchair as well. On the downside, this meant that boredom and isolation - a very bad combination indeed - came together. At least Havoc was in the room. Ed wasn't willing to even consider thinking about what Roy would do with no inhibiting factors except his wounds and the potential for violence that had been proven that morning. _But he can't be that stupid. I know love isn't a rational feeling, but jumping a guy who hasn't reciprocated your feelings is just dense. No, it's not dense, there's a legal term for it. It's rape. He knows it's a crime and he knows I'd sue his ass off if he tried anything._ Ed grunted in semi-amusement at himself. _If I don't stop thinking about it, I'm going to get interested. Then it'll __**all**__ just go to hell._

Havoc stood up.

_Oh shit. He's going to leave. Ohshitohshitohshit. No - no way. There goes my last line of defence, walking out the door! Fuck, this is NOT. GOOD. Now Mustang's gonna try and start a conver - _

"Fullmetal?"

"What?"

"...I'm sorry if I frightened you."

"Um, heh, well, really, you didn't."

"Then I'm sorry for upsetting you in any way."

_Great. What can I say to that? I can't tell him he didn't upset me, that I was just surprised, 'cause then he'll start making assumptions..._

"Fullmetal? Are you okay? You seem... worried."

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

_No... I'm not. Why can't I tell him the truth? This man has seen me at my lowest. Why can't I get over myself and just tell him: No, I'm not fine, I'm confused!_ "Yes. I don't want to talk about it."

"I only want to help... Ed."

Ed spun himself, wide-eyed, to stare at Roy. "...What did you just call me?"

Roy turned to him and raised his eyebrows. "I've always called you Fullmetal. Isn't it time for a change?"

"Yeah, but why change?"

Roy raised his hand to his temple and sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I thought you might be offended. To call someone by their first name implies closeness. I get the feeling you aren't comfortable with that."

"Havoc calls me 'Ed.' You think Havoc and I are 'close'? Then why don't you call Hawkeye 'Riza?'" Ed's voice was rising with his temper.

"I respect her enough that I don't need to."

"But that's _Hawkeye!_ So what if she's got a gun? She's a helluva lot closer in rank to you than I am!"

"Well, I'll just have to fix that, then."

"Just how are you thinking you're gonna do that, huh?!"

"I'm of high enough rank in the Amestrian military to promote a State Alchemist up to, oh, Lieutenant-Colonel. The position is vacant."

"Are you suggesting - agh! Just what the hell kind of bottom feeder do you think I am?! Trying to win me over by offering me a promotion in exchange! Well, guess **what??** **There's one law I will never disobey, and you know what it is, **_**and a promotion is nowhere **__**near**__** equal to**_** -** " Ed stopped his own mouth with his left hand.

Roy waited. "To what?"

"_**SHUT UP!**_" Ed surged up, stomped out the door and slammed it behind him.

He calmed himself down before walking up the aisle of the train car, eyes locked onto a vacant seat near the front of the cab. Before he sat down, he asked his new neighbour calmly, but with a vague leaning in the general direction of disdain, "Do you mind?"

The person - he couldn't even tell whether they were male or female, they were wrapped up in so many layers of clothing - shook his or her head. Ed sat down as the person watched him.

Many a moment passed in outward and mental silence. Ed had no regrets about his actions in the private compartment, except perhaps for thinking the word he almost said. It was true. A pay hike and a title weren't worth a blade of grass next to it. His thoughts started again, but as less of a scream in the back of his head and more just ideas passing through his mind like mist on the wind. Maybe Roy _didn't_ want to offend him. Maybe it was just that he was used to going after girls for so many years, and now he didn't know what to do. Maybe he was back in the compartment contemplating suicide. No, that's crazy. He wouldn't lose his cool over something so trivial. Then again, Ed wasn't exactly the kind of person one would call 'trivial.' That is, if one had survival instincts. Ed couldn't help feeling a little bit sorry for the guy. He looked like he meant everything. Well, maybe if he'd just chased after a guy who wasn't _straight_... or, well, Ed didn't really know for sure, did he? I mean, he'd had that crush on Rose, and admittedly Winry had crossed his mind that way a few times, but he'd never looked at a girl as 'girlfriend material'. Maybe he was asexual, in which case Roy was in even more trouble. Or maybe he was indeed capable of loving another man...

"_Eduard Elrik?_" said the figure next to him, saying the words with care and a heavy accent.

Ed was jolted out of his introspection. "Y-what is it?"

The figure turned its head slowly. It pulled down a bit of scarf to reveal what appeared to be an automail ear. It flipped it forward and pushed a button that had been under it.

Ed leapt out of his seat and screamed for everyone to get off the train. One of the staff attempted to calm Ed down before she heard the mailbot say, in an elegant, pre-recorded female voice: "_Diese vorrichtung wird selbst-zerstören in dreißig sekunden..._" at which point she began to loudly agree with Ed while running for the emergency stop. The train stopped ten seconds later, giving the population of the train twenty more seconds to evacuate. The message had been sent out. People had already jumped out of windows. Ed ran back to the private compartment where Havoc was attempting to carry Roy out. It appeared the latter had reopened a wound on his leg. Havoc told him to take Roy while he grabbed whatever luggage he could. Before Ed could ask any questions, Havoc had dumped Roy into his arms and turned to grab the bags. Ed went back out into the insanity and got off the train without much trouble. Seeing a large number of passengers staring at the train like confused cattle, Ed screamed at them to get farther away while he ran. After reaching a safe distance, he began to set Roy on the ground, but before he could, he heard a tiny, quiet voice in his ear and felt an arm wrap around his shoulder.

"_Don't let go..._"

The explosion was deafening at the mere forty metres Ed had run. For an object of that size to carry that much explosive power meant whoever had built it really wanted someone dead. Ed's thinking power was reduced by the situation, but he could ascertain that whomever the target was had also appeared at the Rockbells' house. That meant it was probably either him or Roy.

-

_The phone rang._

_This was, in itself, not an unusual occurrence. Roy's thoughts were as such._

_Then he heard the voice: the alto, almost feminine voice that seemed engineered to catch his eardrums in a vice grip._

"_Hello, Mistur Mustang. I realise zat I am, heh, calling across ze varfront, but I vould like to talk to you about a little... advantage I could lend to you."_

_Roy proceeded on light feet. "Well... what sort of advantage would this be?"_

"_A form of artillery zat can infiltrate enemy lines visout even ze suspicion of it being zere. I haf named her 'Fullmail.'"_

"'_Her?'"_

"_Ja. Using your country's automail and my country's artificial intelligence, I haf created a valking, talking, fighting bomb. Very useful for assassinations, as it can identify targets vit cameras zat ve can see srough her eyes vit."_

"_Who are you?"_

"_Zat is not important. Vhat is important is zat I get your agreement zat you vill use zis device against ze Drachman soldiers. Osservise, I may haff to lend her povers to... ozzers instead."_

"_**Who are you?**__"_

"_It doss not matter, Herr Mustang! Vill you accept my help?"_

"_Not until I know who you are!"_

_A protracted, pensive pause. "I see. I shall go elsevere, zen." Roy heard a click. A tone told him there was no more mystery caller._

_He had something else to contemplate than the identity of the mystery caller, however: that wasn't a Drachman accent like anything he had heard before._

-

I mentioned his country of origin once, though. Waaay back in the fic.

Crappydoodles. I'm starting to project myself onto Roy. My ideas, my fears... Maybe if I just jump my boyfriend it'll help the story get to the gay porn faster. (Also a note from January.)


	8. To Be Caught

Weltschmerz

Durch Hanomaru

Disclaimer: No ownie. No suie. No money.

Attention à la marche: Bad shonen-ai, worse language, worst writing. If you got this far, you shouldn't care, though.

A/N: And a _**NEW PAIRING!**_ AlWinry FTW!

-

**Verfangen**

The paramedics had been able to patch up most of the injuries on the scene, and thus far, there had been no deaths announced. The only absence was that of the auto-android-bomb-thing, which had somewhat ironically printed its name on its ticket as "Jane Doe."

Ed approached one of the medics and asked him to take a look at Roy's leg. The medic was led to the patch of ground where Roy was sitting, looking drowsy, but relatively healthy for having just survived his second assassination attempt. The medic did a quick examination and ascertained that while the wound had not, in fact, reopened, it wasn't a good idea for Roy to be running anywhere for a week or two. Weakened ligaments, delicate scar tissue etcetera. Then Ed felt a tap on his shoulder.

It was the young woman who had pulled the emergency brake. She asked, curious, "Do you speak Drachman as well?"

"Uh... no. It was just instinct."

"Oh. I thought you did. She had hardly even finished _selb-zerstören_ before you warned us all."

"Well... it was more the fact that the thing had a _bomb_ attached..."

She laughed. It sounded like an old lady with asthma after all the smoke from the blast. "So you _do_ speak Drachman!"

"No, I don't. Why? What was it saying?"

"Well, a direct translation... I'm sure Drachman wasn't her first language. She said something simple. Like, 'This device will self-destruct in thirty seconds.' It was scary to listen to... and then she..."

"Look, it wasn't a 'she' it was a - "

"Ed."

"What do you want?"

Roy tried to look macho and serious. "Let's keep it classified for now, shall we?"

The girl inhaled squeeishly.

Ed scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Fine, Mr. Puzzling-Pants. Jeez. Secrecy gave you that friggin' eye patch and what do you do? You encourage it. Bugger."

"Are you two..."

Ed and Roy turned to face her, unimpressed with her energetically admiring face.

"Are you two _detectives?!_ Ohmygod! That's amazing! 'Cause, see, I lost my cat a week ago and I've been looking for someone who c - "

"**No, we're not,**" Roy and Ed said in unison. Ed helped Roy up and walked away from a medic moving on to the next patient and a disappointed would-be fangirl.

They found a dishevelled but uninjured Havoc in the middle of trying to help an elderly man get back on his feet. A glint of something caught Ed's eye. He found it on sight. His eyes widened. His mouth opened. "What... is... _that?!_"

Havoc sent the old man on his way and turned to Ed. "What is what?"

"Th - **that!**" Ed pointed dramatically at Havoc's hand.

"Oh, this?" Havoc pointed at the source of Ed's spaz attack. "You didn't know? Oh, right, of course not. I don't wear it around HQ because... well... it'd blow both Mustang's and my covers."

Ed calmed down a bit. "So you're..."

"Yep."

Ed took a minute to think it over. He laughed loudly after a few seconds. "I get it now! You conniving bastard!"

Havoc shrugged and smirked sideways at Roy. "Anything to help out someone I respect."

Ed looked around at the people getting up to get their luggage. "So... um... yeah. How're we getting to Central, then?"

Havoc and Roy glanced at each other, looked off to the west, and pointed Ed's eyes in that same direction. There, not three kilometres away, were the outskirts of Central.

"Oh."

-

The apartment was decent-sized. It was a two-bedroom outfit with a well-equipped kitchen and comfy living room. No wall separated the kitchen and living room, so while Al was brewing something caffeinated he could still be part of the rather awkward conversation. Roy was being as quiet as he could without being impolite. Havoc was quieter than usual, but still not as reserved as Roy. Winry and Ed were catching up fairly efficiently, with Al offering the occasional correction to Ed's ego. It was discussed and concluded that Ed would stay in Winry and Al's apartment for the week of leave Roy had given to them and to himself. Havoc and Roy had their own places, so they left soon after the coffee and tea had evaporated. Winry had to make a house call that afternoon, so Al and Ed were left alone for a few hours of what turned out to be absolute boredom.

Al began to get fidgety. He had this worried look on his face. It wasn't a look Ed had seen in a long time.

"Al, what's wrong?"

No response for a few seconds, then suddenly, "Brother?"

"I'm listening."

He sighed quietly. "If I told you I loved Winry, would you... dismiss it?"

Ed smiled. "No, of course not! I love Winry. Winry's customers love Winry. Everybody who's met Winry loves Winry."

"Not like that..." Al put his forehead on his intertwined hands.

Ed's eyebrows rose. "What's this all of a sudden? We've known her all our lives and after th - ... twenty-one years, suddenly you're in love with her?" He had intended it as an honest question ,but it came out sounding rather accusatory.

Al's shoulders sunk a little bit, and he gripped the back of his neck with his hands.

Ed backed off. "I'm sorry, Al. It's just a bit of a surprise for me. But... why now?"

"She needs someone. Aunt Pinako's gone, we're all heading off to fight in Drachma and might not even come back, and she doesn't know anyone in Central except us and some people in the military..."

"That's true, but you could just leave the military. Why would love solve anything?"

Al looked up at Ed with a sad smile on his face. "It will."

Ed opened his mouth to say something, but considered his options and shut up.

-

It was late, it was dark, and it was quiet. Ed walked through the streets of Central on his own for the first time in seven years. He knew exactly where he was going but wasn't exactly certain if it was where he wanted to go. However, after what Al had said, it was where he needed to go.

_Love isn't my enemy. There is a distinction to be made between the love that Mustang claims to feel for me and the lust of a pedophile or the power-hunger of a rapist. One, according to Al, has the power to cure all ills, yet also has the potential to do a great deal of harm, just like so many principles of science. All others are cheap excuses used by sociopaths and paraphiliacs__1__ for their own ends. I have a lot of questions that need answering about love, and who better to answer them?_

He didn't exactly remember how he'd learned the address, but it was like it was tattooed on his brain. He tried to knock loudly without waking the neighbours and succeeded. A light went on in a downstairs window. He heard, very faintly, the sound of uneven footsteps coming towards the door from the other side. The door opened, and there was Roy, in all his weary glory and no eye patch. His eye appeared, in fact, to be perfectly functional. Ed dismissed therefore dismissed the eye patch as some philosophical protest pertaining to the Law of Equivalent Exchange or something and invented an entry line. Not a particularly good one, but it was honest.

"I'm here to talk."

-

Ed received part of his answer when Roy brought him some coffee. He thanked Roy and took the coffee, leaning back to enjoy the time.

"I'm sorry for frightening you back in that bar."

"You didn't! You... just... well... I was surprised. I've never had anyone say that they - "

"Keeping in mind that I never _said_ I liked you."

Ed's eyes widened and he stared at Roy as the latter sat next to him on the couch.

Roy sighed, paused, and, in the deliberate tone of words spoken thousands of times in one's mind, said, "But I love you."

Ed's expression didn't change for half a minute before his tongue could find what could ask everything in one syllable: "Why?"

"I would say, but we would be here until the house collapsed." Roy smiled softly. It was a smile that augmented his answer and left Ed absolutely speechless. After waiting a few seconds for a response, Roy continued, "Do you want to know something?"

Ed snapped out of his trance. "W-What is it?"

"No one else knows it."

"Aren't you a bit old for secrets?"

Roy chuckled quietly. "Never. Well, you see, you might think otherwise with Havoc's stories and all, but the truth is..." And the truth came out.

Ed laughed harder than he'd laughed in ages. His ribs hurt. He could hardly even breathe. After getting all the laughter out, he said, "No way!"

"The truth isn't that funny."

"You're **that** much of a loser?!"

Roy looked coolly indignant. "It's my own choice."

"What??"

"I actually bothered to think about the consequences, so I said 'no.'"

Ed pondered. "That's a good point. But still, you're, like, forty or something - "

"Thirty-four, thank you very much."

"Thirty-four and practically infamous and you're still... no way. I can't believe it."

"It's the truth."

Ed sighed, looked Roy in the eyes, and something clicked. He didn't know exactly what or how, but he felt a wrenching, pulling pain in his chest that reminded him of whenever his automail arm was reattached to his nerves. He felt it spread and become a knot in his neck and a feeling like nematodes dancing in his stomach. It was like every cold, cough and plague he'd ever had, compounded and concentrated in that one moment. He resisted it, quelled it with sheer mind power, and relaxed. Eager to distract himself and rekindle the conversation, he offered something that he had learned in his time across the Gate.

"There was a society..."

Roy's attention was caught.

"...Thousands of years ago, across the Gate and probably here as well..." Ed had to muster a lot of self-control to say it without laughing, breaking off, or worse. "They had an... interesting way of improving the fighting ability of their soldiers."

Roy was listening intently. _Maybe he already knows what I'm talking about..._

"All of the greatest fighters were in love with each other. The upper ranks were like a big gay orgy. It helped them win wars because they were that much more determined to protect each other and avenge one another's death or injury or whatever, so it was encouraged by the generals and whatnot."

"Interesting. Very interesting. What were they called?"

"Um, it started with an M and it had at least two a's and e's in it, too."2

"I see. Why did you bring this up?" Roy smirked as he asked. "Proposing we do the same thing to the Amestrian military?"

"I wouldn't mind - " Ed clapped his hand over his mouth.

Roy raised his eyebrows. Insight was written all over his face, even if he didn't really need it. He leaned towards Ed. "So I take it you're not completely loath to the idea of..."

Ed opened his mouth, but the wrong word came out. He could have sworn that he'd wanted to scream "No!" but his inner voice took his vocal chords hostage and made them sound out a determined, yet not loud, "Yes." _It's not wrong, though. This isn't wrong. Heck, this might be my only chance in life..._

He leaned forward, feeling the pull in his chest again and now letting it bring him closer to Roy...

The other yelled and yanked him onto the floor before an explosion rocked the room. The noise took about a minute to settle along with some of the dust. Over Roy's shoulder, he could see that a great deal of the wall was blown away. Pieces of glass, wood and plaster were everywhere, including a Cyclopean, vicious-looking shard that had been propelled at such high speed that it was embedded in the heel of Ed's automail leg. After making sure that Roy wasn't injured - well, any more than he was before - Roy stood and they both stared out at the common denominator from past attacks.

Maximum damage.

-

_He knew it was wrong._

_The last time he saw Ed, it still would have been illegal. He'd been twice Ed's age when Ed had become the Fullmetal Alchemist, and the age difference hadn't changed, just the ratio. Yet, he still had so many thoughts about what he could have done at that last meeting instead of standing around like an extra in the movie of Ed's life. He could go through so many things in his mind that he could have done, just to make Ed see that he was madly in love. However, he had not been quite so madly in love at that point._

_It hurt like hell now. Hawkeye was starting to mention doctors more often. Armstrong was speeching. Havoc was looking knowingly at the bags under his eyes and the way he just gave up on some paperwork. It was obvious that he needed to solve the problem, but the solution was an infinite distance away._

-

A/N: Goddammit! Now I'm projecting myself onto Ed, too! Argh!

I think you can tell I like blowing stuff up, no?

Lexicon-Enhancing Notes!:

1 "Paraphiliacs": I've been reading through my dad's abnormal psychology textbooks again. A paraphiliac is a person who is subject to a paraphilia, or abnormal love. Paraphilias include pedophilia, necrophilia, fetishism, and really any sexual desire for which consent from the other partaker cannot be obtained (aka the "other partaker" is a child, animal, inanimate object, food item...).

2 Gay orgy in the military: These are the Mycenaeans Ed's talking about. They're one of the older Greek cultures that went to war with Troy in Homer's _Iliad_. And, yes, most of the great fighters were gay for each other. The movie messed up. That kid wasn't Achilles's cousin...

Oh, and when I use the words "myrmidon" and "Cyclopean" along with a reference to the Mycenaeans, it's known as "good writing." This is a first for me.


	9. To Know

Weltschmerz

Durch Hanomaru

Disclaimer: Your face doesn't own FMA or anything else.

Warnings: You want porn? Tough luck. Wait for a later chapter. As for now, it's just the usual bad language, shonen-ai and mediocre writing.

A/N: Tuna on the brain.

-

**Wissen**

Though Roy's house had been damaged, it wasn't nearly as badly done for as the one across the street. It belonged to a young couple who were fortunately not home at the time of the explosion, but it still wouldn't be nice to come back to. So, once Ed had dealt with the glass in his left heel, he did what he did best. He fixed it.

Roy watched as Ed clapped and put his hands to a piece of still-attached wall. It took a few seconds for the material from the house to decompose and recollect where it had been twenty minutes before. When the transmutation had finally finished, Ed stood back next to Roy and admired his work. It looked a bit... different from before, but who says a gargoyle here and there is a bad thing on a Tudor-style home? It gave it a... respectable quality.

Without warning or evident cause, Ed's skin started to prickle. He felt shivers go up his spine and a small jabbing pain in every one of his joints. A suspicion ran through his mind. He lost his balance momentarily, but straightened himself before Roy noticed.

"Good work, Ed. I see you're still just as powerful as when you left last time." Roy turned and a worried look crossed his face. "Are you okay? You look... tired. Exhausted, really. Maybe you should wait until morning to fix my house. The bedroom's safe. We could stay there."

Ed gave a little nervous laugh. "Sorry, nice try, but, um, I'd better head back to the apartment. Winry and Al might start getting worried and all."

Roy cleared his throat. "I see. Perhaps we could do lunch, then?"

From terrorist robot attack to asking for a lunch date, the transition caught Ed off guard. "Are you... asking me out?" He cocked his head and squinted at Roy.

Roy's eyebrows flattened as he mumbled, "No, I'm ballet dancing en pointe."

Ed grinned. "You're still just as sarcastic as when I left last time. When and where?"

Roy raised an eyebrow. "Can you do 12:30 at the corner of Lyle and Third?"

"What's there? I didn't spend much time in that part of town."

"A few restaurants, a few apartment buildings. It's mostly parks, but you'd like it. I'll see you there, then?"

"Unless we get blown up. It's almost an everyday thing, now, you never know..."

As Ed walked away, Roy noted that he was limping a bit. He assumed that it was because of the glass shard that had been in his leg and went back to what was left of his house for what was left of the night.

-

Ed closed the door almost silently and walked in to find Al enjoying a very early breakfast. It still wasn't light out, but he was calmly eating toast while conveniently sitting in the chair with the easiest view of the door.

"You know, you're not being a very good role model," he joked, wagging a piece of toast playfully. "Getting yourself into trouble everywhere, fighting bad guys without me, sneaking out at all hours to be with someone..."

"It wasn't like that, Al."

"...and getting defensive whenever I find a button to push. Why would you sneak out otherwise?"

"I needed to talk with him."

"Really? What about?"

"Al, you know how we were talking earlier about you?"

"Yeah... You look tired. What happened?"

Ed sighed to prepare his mouth for what was about to come out of it. "I think I'm falling in love with him."

Al's eyes widened. The toast dropped onto the plate before Al gripped the table. "Nooo. I mean, I'm sorry, but... that's just wrong! I mean... he's a _guy!_"

"I noticed."

"He's practically _old!_"

"I noticed."

"He's... an _old guy!_"

"I noticed."

"Stop being so calm about it! It's - just - wrong!"

"What's wrong about it?"

"He's a man! You're a man! Aren't you - "

"Would it be better if he was a woman, Al?"

Stunned silence paused to pay a visit. "I... I'm sorry, Brother."

"Now would be a good time to let go of the other world and its prejudices, Al. Then again, I can barely remember ever hearing a word about it over here, but that doesn't mean that we can't accept it ourselves. Even if I end up having to live a lie from here on out, I would be happy to know that at least my little brother, whom I have centred my life around for eleven years, accepted that I was in love with another man."

"I just didn't really see the possibility, that's all. I mean, you turned girls down all the time in Munich, but I thought that was just being devoted to your studies."

"That's because it was. I didn't even know myself until half an hour ago."

"Well, to be honest, I did have a thought or two this afternoon..."

Ed gave Al a curious look.

"While we were talking, you were more cautious when you were talking than you usually are. You try to be more serious. You laugh less. Now that I know what's going on, it was really sort of cute."

"Hey! Don't call your older brother 'cute!'"

Al chuckled at his brother's indignation. "Why not? You blushed sometimes. It _was_ cute."

"Oh, forget it. I've got stuff to do this afternoon. I'll have to leave around 11:30 and I don't know when I'll be back."

"Okay. Go get some sleep, Brother. Today's going to be a big day. A good day, but a big day."

"How do _you_ know? You have a telepathic connection with Noa or something?"

Al shrugged. "I just know."

Ed looked at him for a moment with one eyebrow raised, then staggered off to bed to get some decent sleep. He had a lot of things off his chest; it would be easier now to dream.

-

It turned out not to be that big of a day, besides the overwhelming emotional and mental strain that it took for Ed to sit down to lunch with Roy Mustang. His inner 12-year-old was outraged, as usual, but it wasn't the age gap or the whole gender thing that got to him. It was more that the waiters were being just a little too nice, that a girl sitting two tables away kept shooting him nasty looks over Roy's shoulder, and the general atmosphere that said he and Roy would be gossiped about for weeks after this. Publicity wasn't exactly on his Christmas list, especially if it was hours after he'd discovered he was gay. He could see it now: the children being pulled away if he smiled at them, the cigarettes extinguished in his food, being surrounded by a 5-metre circle of nothing in the military cafeteria, everyone who would talk to him talking like they were walking on broken glass and worse. He could think of much worse. He would have to stick with Winry, Al, Havoc and especially Roy if he was to survive.

Of course, he was used to the 5-metre circle of nothing already. Not many people felt the need to make friends with the child prodigy who raised the standard for all of them by passing the State Alchemist test at age twelve. He understood that.

_I'll bet cigarette ashes taste like shit, though._

It was three and a half hours well spent if he put the waiters and glare-girl aside. He learned a fair bit about the inner workings of the military, Roy's recent lack of a love life, the last six years of Amestris's political history (apparently there had been four elections in the year after Ed first left) and everything else Ed had needed or wanted to know. In turn, he told Roy about the mechanical marvels across the Gate, about rockets, aeroplanes and the massive machines that ran every factory. He felt it was appropriate to mention that all of those machines had been used to both help and harm mankind.

"Such as in that war you were telling me about?"

Ed's eyes dropped to his empty plate. "Yes... I shouldn't have told you about that. Now I'm gonna have a lot to explain. This isn't the place, though."

"We could go to my house. You could fix what happened with the fullmail today."

"Fullma - ...? Yes, right. It would give me a chance to prove my story, too. I'll pay."

"Hm? Oh. Er, yes. If that's what you want."

Twenty minutes and an unusually large number of cens later, they were at Roy's front door and Ed prepared himself for a lot of clarification.

"Well, you told me your big secret. Now I guess I have to tell you mine." Ed walked up next to the wall. "The whole age thing? Not a problem." He clapped, transmuted the house back to normal, and it began again, just as it had the previous night. As it did, he smirked inwardly because his suspicions had been correct. His skin lost its elasticity very slightly and prickled. He could feel his bones thin a little. His vision blurred momentarily, turning Roy into a black-white-and-blue blob that came back into focus looking rather surprised.

Roy waited until he was quite sure that Ed wasn't going to faint. "You're... losing your power?"

Ed laughed. "No." He walked back over to Roy and, to his own surprise, could look down at him if he stood up straight. "I'm assuming you know about the first four dimensions?"

"Yes."

"Then you know that the first three can each, individually, be represented as a line and that, when crossed, they are all perpendicular to one another. The fourth, as we see every day, is more of a state than a line, but behaves like a line in some ways nonetheless. The first three run along it at a fixed rate, never appearing to go faster or slower or in the other direction. Man has always wanted to change this rate of travel, but it is impossible. Time is unchanging. However, relative time is not.

"This world and the world across the Gate, though they can't interact in the first three dimensions, normally run at the same speed but are at slightly different points along the timeline. Think of two ships fastened to one another by thousands of highly elastic threads - the Gate within every alchemist - and one massive cord - the one omnipresent Gate that leads to other worlds. The first time that Gate was opened as a means of transport, it was afterwards destroyed, or, the cord was cut. That was centuries ago. The second time, shortly after the first Gate was destroyed, the two worlds had to be realigned to reconstruct it. Otherwise it would be highly unstable due to the presence of the old Gate and therefore ineffective. Think tying that massive cord to an old rotting bit of rope as opposed to a railing. This world was stopped or slowed to an infinitesimal speed relative to the other world for about four years. No one on this side noticed because, to us, it would have been instead more like the other world was moving faster by a factor of more than thirty million. Four years in the other world passed like four seconds in this one. Then, when the worlds were realigned, the construction of the second Gate was allowed to be completed. All the Gates within every alchemist were also realigned, creating a network that firmly attached the worlds at the four-year difference.

"Then you and I destroyed the second Gate. This is where it becomes my story. You see, it did take Al and me four years to learn how to reconstruct the Gate. However, the actual reconstruction took another twelve. The Gate simply wouldn't allow itself to be reconstructed, and pushed this world, relatively, to a near-stop for twelve years. Again, twelve years passed like twelve seconds over here. It took twelve years of waiting for the Gate to fully realign outside the course of the old Gate. I think (and I just think, don't say it's a fact) that would be because the old Gate was in place for so long. And, of course, there had to be time spent deciding where we could hide it and getting the Gate to allow itself to be created there. Fortunately, it looks like we waited long enough and that all the little Gates are working and equivalent exchange is still in order. Al and I had to pay in time again.

"Al doesn't remember those twelve years across the Gate. He doesn't know anything about that war that started in the last year we were there. I want to keep it that way. That time, I believe, saw some of the worst things humans have ever done to one another.

"When we came through the Gate, my body reverted to the form it would have been in had I stayed in this world for that time: a twenty-two-year-old body. Every time I use alchemical power and open my personal Gate, especially for something as large-scale as rebuilding a house, my close connection to the other world means my body grows older, to get closer to the age I was when Al and I left that world. Do you know how old that makes me?"

Roy smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Thirty-four."

"Yeah. But," he looked down at himself contentedly as he noted, "this body seems to say more like twenty-six right now, don't you agree?"

"Indeed. So why doesn't Al grow older, then?"

"He doesn't use alchemy very often any more. When we're together he doesn't use it for anything major, and when we're apart, well, danger leaves him alone." Ed grinned mischievously. "Some things never change."

-

The rest of the week went much more smoothly now that Roy knew he wasn't about to get arrested for child molestation. Fortunately, there were no more fullmail attacks and no sightings of the same, leaving Ed and Roy able to move freely around Central and go out for lunch a couple more times. Otherwise, the week was uneventful (or, as Ed put it in a conversation with Winry, "I'm gonna start making trouble if none shows up soon."). Then, to Ed's partial glee, the week was over and he, Al, Havoc and Roy were all off to the Drachman front. As the four were exiting Central HQ, however, they encountered another delay.

A small biplane had crash-landed in the plaza. Panicked bystanders were doing their best imitations of Chicken Little in remembrance of the last time a flying machine appeared in Central (things go boom, corpses in armour go bam, Ed go bye etcetera). It was as of yet unknown whether or not anyone had been injured because they couldn't get the machine open.

Upon receiving the news, Ed's first thoughts did not involve scientific analysis. Rending of limbs would be more accurate. He ended up using that rending energy for better means, as it turned out; only his automail limbs could handle the sharp broken metal and wood from the crash. Upon reaching what appeared to be a door in the side of the machine under a smashed aileron, Ed pulled, yanked, rattled and hit the latch, but it wouldn't budge. Shortly after giving up on that endeavour and beginning the search for a window to smash, the door opened quietly, almost apologetically. A pale, wrinkled face poked around it.

"Oh. Hello. Sorry about that. Would you mind helping me out?"

Ed stared in utter shock at the snow-capped old woman, looking feeble and shrunken in the mass of muddled metal but still smiling like she had just found a particularly good deal on textiles. He scrambled to lift her light body out of the wreckage and proceeded to carry her to a safe distance before gently, but gracelessly, setting her on a bench. "Holy alien tentacle porn - What were you doing in there?!"

Al stared. Havoc puffed on his cigarette. Roy cleared his throat. "Ed," he announced, as though to the whole world. "I am pleased to introduce you to Dr. Elma Bernotti."

Ed looked between the two, switching back and forth rapidly. Then, after he had deduced that, yes, the old bag next to him in the overalls and T-shirt was the Bernotti Roy was referring to, he made a noise like a vulture choking on bad cocaine. Al's instincts kicked in and he ran over to her, apologizing for Ed all the way.

"Oh, no, it's all right. I needed help and he helped me. I surprise him and he..." She looked over at the now-somewhat-calmed Ed. "Oh dear, are you all right? You look exhausted."

"It's nothing, I'm fine." Ed smiled falsely and scratched his head. "More to the point, it looks like your research was a... success."

Bernotti looked back at the mess in the plaza. A shy smile joined the many lines on her face and made some new ones. "Well, it's not perfect, but I can do everything except land. The ground just comes up so fast when you're used to soaring among the birds. Well, back in Cairn Pass I had a nice soft swamp to land in and I could recover the plane afterwards, but apparently it doesn't like cobblestones quite as much..."

Roy stepped in. "Dr Bernotti, you'd be interested to know that Ed already has a fair bit of experience with things like your machine and perhaps could help you in your research. Isn't that right, Ed?"

"Y-yeah, of course." Ed did his best to keep what troublesome temper he had as he hissed sideways into Roy's ear, "_What, you want me to __**fly**__ one of those things?! I thought you said you loved me!_"

"_I do. That's why I believe you can do it._"

"_But the closest I've ever come is sitting in the co-pilot's seat and imitating the controls! I don't actually __**know!**_"

"_Just do what seems like it won't kill you._"

"_You don't know anything about planes! I mean, everywhere else I'd trust you with anything, but here?! You know nothing!_"

Roy's brow twitched, one of the few signs he ever gave of any emotional upset. "_If you were anyone else, __**that**__ would probably have gotten you fired. Just do it to make the poor woman happy._"

"_Fine._" Ed returned to an apologetic tone. "Um, sorry about that, Dr. Bernotti. I'm assuming there's another one of these?"

"Yes, but it's back in Cairn Pass, I'm afraid."

There was a pause before Roy made his decision. "If you managed to make it to Central in that, then I'm assuming it can get us back to Cairn Pass. Ed? Would you do the honours?"

Ed made a small noise of annoyance and pointed at the bags under his eyes.

"Right. I'll do it, then. Haven't used practical alchemy in a while."

Ed put on a look that said quite clearly that he was surprised Roy could even **do** 'practical alchemy' at all. His surprise was quelled when Roy walked calmly over to the wreckage, drew a simple transmutation circle (because, assumedly, the ones on his gloves would just burn the whole thing to a crisp) with some charcoal from the debris and activated it with a gloveless hand. Orange-red sparks of alchemical energy snapped and crackled from piece to piece until each chunk of metal and wood wobbled and was moved by something like magnetism in appearance together into the shape of the original plane. The edges between each part glowed the same colour as the sparks. The glow disappeared to leave the plane, shining like it was brand new, in the middle of an oblong crater of smoking rubble, facing the far end of the persistently panicked plaza. He looked back to see Ed standing, arms folded, looking like he'd just gotten a wet pair of boxers to the side of the head.

"Did you think that all I could create was explosions?"

Ed's rather droll expression didn't change. "Well, that's all I've ever seen you do."

Roy just smirked.

Bernotti said, "I built that cockpit to fit six people, and I think the plaza's long enough for a takeoff as long as we make sure no one's standing in our way."

Havoc glanced at the aforementioned cockpit. "It doesn't look like a six-person thing."

"It's roomier when you get in. Trust me. Now, shall we dance?"

-

_The Fuhrer Tomas had just made the announcement that they were going to the Drachman front. The déjà vu was unbearable. In his mind, he questioned the Fuhrer's motivation. After all, this one had even less of an entitlement to ship them off north to die than Fuhrer Bradley did._

_Of course, Roy already knew the cold of the North fairly well. A year of waiting in the cold had been more than enough to get him accustomed to biting winds and deep snow._

_Waiting..._

_He wished he could say he had been waiting for proof that Ed was alive, but no. He had been waiting for Ed himself. He had given up his title, his office, his comfort, and even his alchemical talent in some effort to bring Ed back. He'd known there was hardly an iota of a chance that Ed would know about any sacrifice he made during that time, but he did it anyways._

_That hadn't been about love, though. Or, at least, if it had been, he hadn't realized it. Really, he hadn't even known he was really waiting for Ed. An opportunity for atonement, perhaps, but not Ed. Not the strong-willed cat of a person who came in whenever he saw fit and didn't listen when he was lectured. Not the automail that let you know when he was coming by the sounds it made when he walked. Not the eyes that grabbed your attention from their colour alone. Not the ninja-like agility and alchemical talent that rendered him unstoppable. Not the wits that could make the world turn the direction he wanted it to. Not the comic grin that could completely reverse emotions upon sight._

_Oh, damn. Now he had to admit he was too deep in love._

-

A/N: Oh, damn, indeed. I apologize for the huge blocks of speculative mumbo-jumbo, but it's a part of the story! It just... came out! Besides, you have a 3700-word chapter there. Enjoy it or it won't happen again!

I realized I either have a thick accent or a speech impediment. I drop consonants when I speak, for example, "getting" turns into "ge'n," "probably" turns into "prolly," "just" turns into "chs," and an assortment of others. 'Ts likely chs the accé' I've develo' frm livin' in the same place all m'life.

Wet boxers. Foreshadowing. Hee hee hee. (evil snickering)


	10. To Debate

Weltschmerz

Durch Hanomaru

Disclaimer: While I lay claim to my creative works, such as my fanfics, manga, artwork and songs, I lay no claim to Arakawa-sensei's Fullmetal Alchemist. This is for jest, not profit.

Warnings: Mush, swearing, appalling writing. Robertson Davies I am not.

A/N: I just realized that thanks to my parents and their odd ideas about how the Internet affects my grades, I've missed all four of my anniversaries. Ah, I was such a n00b in the good old days when less than a quarter of all fanfics were Mary-Sues...

-

**Debatten**

From above, Cairn Pass appeared to be a tiny light spot in a sea of deep green, just two farmhouses, a small mustard field and a chapel near a valley between two large, forested hills that didn't quite make the cut as mountains.(1) They didn't get a good look at it, though, because Ed was more focused on figuring out how to land.

All his knowledge of physics and all his patience for thought were tested to ensure their safety. Finally, the airstrip from which Bernotti usually took off came into view.

Ed took over control from Bernotti. She wibbled a bit as he throttled down to nearly no power, but assumed he had more of an idea of what he was doing than she did. He nosed the plane down, just as Bernotti had done on all her test flights. The horizon rose until all that was visible out of the cockpit was green with a vertical strip of muddy brown. Ed adjusted the yaw of the plane to point it squarely at the makeshift runway, then, seconds before impact, pulled the nose up hard. The craft's rate of descent slowed enough that the landing was not one of Bernotti's crashes, but a mere _thump_ and a lot of vibration. The dirt runway, washboard potholes and all, was no silky deal. Ed turned the motor off as the plane gradually slowed until it stopped ten metres from the end of the runway. Bernotti applauded madly. All her tiny, denim-clad glory was devoted to absolute joy at being alive.

"Well done, Mr. Elric! I must say, I'm amazed! I never would have thought of that!"

"Of what?"

"When I landed, it was just aiming for the ground and trying to level off before hitting it. But you... pulled up much farther and powered down much earlier! Such skill!"

Havoc reached around the seat and patted Ed on the shoulder. "Congrats, Ed. You just made history."

Al piped in cheerfully. "That's true! First complete flight this side of the Gate!"

There was a somewhat uncomfortable pause. "'Gate?' Are we in someone's garden?" Bernotti asked, baffled.

Ed was now the one apologizing. "Sorry, ma'am, it's nothing. Just a bit of Central jargon, right, Al?"

"Yeah! It's nothing! Really!"

"Oh. Okay. Well, my house is just back near the hangar over there, so we could go in there for tea and... oh, dear me..."

As Ed stepped out, he heard crashing and banging from the aforementioned hangar and saw a number of young men carrying - or attempting to carry - large boxes with bits of metal sticking out the top. He ran over to them, screaming for them to stop. On sighting his automail arm, they all stopped instantly. Ed stopped, too, prepared to fight.

Nothing happened. Everyone just stood there, staring at one another, until Bernotti made her way slowly between them. She stood up to her full height, which was less than intimidating, and shouted with more violent intent than seemed possible for her, "If you want scrap metal, go to the junkyard, you young hoodlums! That's my personal spare materials you're lifting! And, by George, if you disassembled my other baby, you will get such a _whipping_...!" She stopped and cracked her knuckles.

The 'young hoodlums' laughed. "And what can you do, huh? Set yer metal-man there on us? Huh! We'll take him apart before he can hit us!" the evident leader of the pack yelled.

Ed took this as a challenge. Without thinking, he clapped, smacked the ground and knocked every single one of them off their collective feet with a massive barrage of rock-hard mud chunks shooting up from the ground. Everyone was too busy watching the carnage to see Ed stumble and fall...

-

When he awoke, he was surrounded by faces. Not all were familiar, but Al, Roy and Havoc were among them. Three had shiners or other assorted minor injuries. Most were absolutely ecstatic to see Ed return to sentience. Even Roy smiled, and it was an honest smile, not a sarcastic or condescending smirk. Roy and Ed just looked at each other as the others celebrated. Roy seemed lost in thought; Ed was more along the lines of dazed and confused. The jubilation migrated out of the room, leaving the two alone. Silence, except for noises of pots and pans in an adjacent room, enveloped them.

Roy was the first to break it. "I never asked... did you destroy it?"

Ed was still in a bit of a daze. "Destroy what?"

"The uranium bomb. The reason why you left. The thing that made you leave us, once again, with an incomplete world."

Ed blinked in astonishment. "What? Are you getting _sentimental?!_ Should I call a doctor?"

"No. Look, Ed." Roy sat down on the side of the bed while maintaining eye contact with Ed. "Everyone who knew you in this world missed you. You belong to this world. You and Al, both of you. This may sound completely illogical coming from me, but our world just didn't turn properly after you left. The Ed and Al of the other world can't - ..." Roy closed his mouth upon seeing Ed's expression change.

Ed broke the eye contact and stared at his left hand. "They're both dead."

"...How?"

He clenched the sheets in his fist. "I... killed... them both..." Memories flooded in. The middle of a burning wreck of a crashed zeppelin, transmuting himself through his personal Gate at the other Edward's _cost..._ Hearing a gun fire multiple rounds as he passed through the Gate in Alfons's rocket, and returning to see him lying in Noa's arms, _dead_ from a shot to the abdomen... Thinking, believing, _knowing_ that it was _all his fault..._ He whispered, "_They're both dead. And I might as well have pulled the trigger..._" Ed's voice was cracking even as he spoke. It hurt to breathe. He lowered his head, trying to curl up into his own world, where he could inhale and say he wasn't a murderer, that he wasn't a selfish coward who killed only for his own survival or for a personal whim.

First, he felt the hand on his right shoulder. Then he felt it slide around to his other shoulder, joined by another arm from the left shoulder to the right. Then he felt Roy's cheek pressed against his forehead. He would have looked up in confusion, but Roy's face was in the way. He settled for pulling him closer and trying to breathe without choking.

Roy mumbled, "Don't beat yourself up about it." He spoke with conviction. "It's not your fault. You didn't kill them of your own will. You were forced by others. You are the hands, not the brain. You have no control over who dies and who lives. You aren't a cold-blooded killer. Someone else took your hands and made you pull that trigger..."

Ed understood everything as Roy continued to reassure him. He understood far more than Roy probably wanted him to. He wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in Roy's shoulder.

"Oh, my..."

Both froze and slowly turned their heads to see everyone and their pot of spaghetti in the doorway. Most eyes were widened, to put it mildly, except those of a completely unsurprised Havoc and a slightly embarrassed Al.

Bernotti, the mistress of tact, spoke again. "I'm sorry... um... should we leave you two alone a bit longer?"

The two on the bed leaned away from one another. Ed was about to snap a hasty 'If you wouldn't mind!' when Roy calmly responded, "It's not a problem, Doctor."

No one moved. Bernotti continued the interrogation. "If it's not a personal question, why were both of you... erm... so... emotional?"

Ed's eyebrow twitched madly as he repeated, "'_**If it's not a personal question?!**_'"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Elric. I just wanted to know why you were upset. Perhaps we could help?"

Ed grumbled, "Too late. He solved it," indicating the man he'd been hanging onto for dear sanity moments ago.

"Your hospitality is appreciated. Is there anything I could do to help?" Roy asked, always more prone to diplomacy than the blond ball of bitterness next to him.

"Oh, no, no. It's quite all right. We were just wondering if you wanted something to eat."

It was at this point that Ed realized he hadn't eaten since the previous night. His stomach decided this was an appropriate moment to audibly back up that claim. Bernotti smiled and left the room to do more cooking-like things, taking the three strangers with her. Ed watched them carefully and with deep suspicion.

"...Aren't those the guys I beat the crap out of earlier?"

Havoc removed the cigarette from his mouth and held it in front of him. "Yep. Turns out they're not bad. They were going to use the metal to build a treehouse for some neighbourhood kids or something. Also turns out they're being sent north too, with another division of the military."

Ed, having just been bopped rather suddenly with a clue-by-four, made a small noise of interest. "Who are they, though?"

"Don't know. Random guys."

Ed looked disappointed for a moment, but dismissed their anonymity.

Noises came from outside the room. Ed began to stand up, but Roy stopped him with a hand before moving silently to listen through the door. He remained completely unemotional as he listened intently with his ear near the door until after about three minutes. Then, he looked forward with only the slightest hint of fear in his face. He turned towards his three subordinates and said, quietly, but with deliberation, "Our cover is blown."

Ed bowed his head. Havoc gave a despairing sigh through his cigarette. Al took about a second to figure out what it meant, then his shoulders sunk and he went to sit on the bed next to his brother.

"So what are they going to do?" Al asked.

"From the sound of it, they seem intent on somehow telling General Arrow(2) about it and, knowing him, neither of us will ever have a respectable job again," Roy said calmly, before going into what could have been the embryo of a rant. "Ed, being a Major, would probably take the brunt of the abuse. They'll probably testify that he seduced a Commander-General into a lifestyle that not only prevents either of us from fathering a bunch of good little patriots, but falls outside their narrow idea of 'normal.'"

Ed was a bit flustered by the seduction comment. "Hey, look, why does my rank mean **I** get blamed? Isn't it the superi - "

"It doesn't matter to them. I'm sorry, Ed. That's what they said."

Al spoke up. "But Bernotti seems like a reasonable person. Why would she turn you in for something like this?"

Roy sighed at Al's naïveté. "Even the best of us can have the worst prejudices."

At which point Bernotti entered with a big platter of steaming spaghetti and meatballs, underscoring Roy's words and embroidering little flowers around them. Cautiously, she invited them to the dining room, where she had set places for all eight of them. They all took their seats, as directed by her hand, after she had set everything on the table.

The conversation over dinner was limited. Most of it was between Havoc and Bernotti, on the subject of the Drachman front. The three well-intentioned punks listened carefully. After all, they were listening to their fate.

"As far as I know, there have been few casualties. Most of the villages have just surrendered when they saw us at their gates," Havoc informed Bernotti.

"Ah, yes. That is understandable. The southern villages know when they're outgunned. The farther north you go, though, the more stubborn and aggressive the people become. I wouldn't be surprised if the invasion was halted at the capital," Bernotti imparted calmly. "I lived in Drachma for a very short time. In fact," she said, glancing to one of the trio, "there are those among us who have _very_ close connections to Drachma. Am I wrong, Gerard?"

The young man sat up straight, as though someone had just poked something sharp into the small of his back. He nodded quickly. "M-My father walked out on us many years ago and he l-lives in... uh... I'm sorry..." he stammered, before shrivelling into a slouch under Mustang's stare.

Mustang looked back to his food and said, "Please continue," before taking a bite of garlic bread.

"Well, he, uh, lives in Rellick, sir. W-with his new wife." He reached shakily into an inner pocket of his jacket. "This is all I have of him." He pulled out an old, worn piece of photographic paper and laid it carefully on the table. It showed the image of a broad-shouldered, bearded man embracing his young wife and three small children. Ed recognized the eldest of the children as the boy sitting across the table from him. Presumably, it had been at least ten years since the photograph was taken.

Without thinking, he asked, "Where's your mother now?"

Gerard said, in a voice barely bigger than a whisper, "She ran off, too, a few years later... I have no idea where she is. My father sends us money sometimes, and th-the whole village helped raise us... I'm s-sorry! What did I say??" he suddenly exclaimed, and backed away a bit from Ed.

It was then that Ed realized he had been making a very unhappy face. He fixed it into a false smile and responded, "Nothing! Nothing at all. Heck, you might even meet your father in Drachma."

Gerard smiled, both sadly and nervously. "I'd rather like to..."

It would have been silent if it weren't for the sounds of cutlery clanking on plates and eight people chewing their food until Bernotti, in a fashion so blunt that despite its intent Ed found it secretly amusing, asked, "Are you two homosexual?"

Roy stopped as he was raising his food to his mouth, set it down, and slowly turned to Bernotti, all with such dignity that Ed was tempted to say yes as he watched him.

"No." Bernotti nodded and returned to her food, but the three young soldiers weren't convinced. Roy noticed this and turned to them. "I realize what you saw earlier would tell you otherwise, but while I will not deny that I hugged the Fullmetal Alchemist, I will not let that go to your judgment as evidence for the two of us being lovers. I am merely very secure in my masculinity. I don't know about Edward, but - don't worry, Ed, it takes a lot of courage to cry, too - but you need to understand that. I am not homosexual," Roy declared with absolute certainty.

_Either he's gotten really good at lying or... _Ed caught himself and rebutted his thoughts with: _So what if he's straight?! It's not like I'm going to be some broken, angsty little whiner if he rejects me! Pf! I don't care! He's just..._

_Oh, what the hell._

-

_He didn't even go out to a bar that night._

_It had been a regular activity, almost a ritual, for him to go out for a drink with Havoc, Falman and Breda every Saturday, but now it held no appeal for him. He had more important things to do. No - that was wrong. He had more important things to __**think**__ was what he had. While others were out celebrating the return of two of the best alchemists Amestris had ever seen, he was at his house, sitting at a chair in the kitchen with a frugal shot of cognac in front of him, appearing to be convinced that he could make it explode by staring at it. In fact, he was thinking about how he had missed the opportunity that he had waited years for._

-

A/N: So school is out for the moment and my job schedule is pretty loose and my boyfriend and I are both uninterested in going out every three frickin' hours. Therefore, I have more time to devote to fanworks like this and more energy to put into...

Not-Very-Significant-But-Good-Things-To-Know Notes!:

[1 This description of Cairn Pass is based on an actual place minus the airstrip. It's a village called La Bouteille in central France, near Clermont-Ferrand. My family has a close connection with it; long story short, my grandfather's Halifax NAN crashed near there during WWII and due to a variety of circumstances and his rather heroic nature he ended up spending a year fighting with the Maquis. We visited the place a couple of years ago. It's really quite pretty.

[2 You know how most of the military people get their names from military aircraft? Mustang, Hawkeye, Havoc... Yeah. There's a new General in town, and the bugger's got the honour of being named after the A.V. Roe Arrow. Canada's biggest military breakthrough and I pin it with this bloody homophobe.


End file.
